


Tantamount

by manfish



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ah yes ye olde “pretending to be boyfriends and actually falling in love” trope, Blunt feli, Chef Gilbert, Human Names Used, Humor, I don’t even know what to call this au, M/M, Okay Maybe It Was Entirely Fluff., Other Additional Tags to Be Added, artist Feliciano, mostly fluff..., sexualy confused gilbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:16:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manfish/pseuds/manfish
Summary: tan·ta·mount/ˈtan(t)əˌmount/adjectiveequivalent in seriousness to; virtually the same as.





	1. Chapter 1

“Kiss me.”

Gilbert could barely hear him. They’d been dancing and drinking together for about a half hour now. He leaned in closer, hoping his companion would repeat himself, unsure if he’d heard him right. The club thumped with music and light and color and people. The crowd moved in waves, and Gilbert felt like he was drowning. And then he couldn’t breathe either, lips covering his, hands moving through his hair. 

He’d heard him right. 

The kiss was nice. Fruitiness poorly masking the vodka found in the cocktails he’d been downing the whole time they’d been together. Hands moved slowly, bodies came together like magnets. Gilbert could feel someone pressing up behind him, but he couldn’t think of anyone but this person in front of him. He couldn’t even remember he was  _ straight.  _

He’d told him his name… 

What was his name? 

They separated just enough to speak, lips brushing together as they breathed. 

“Wanna get outta here?” he asked in a hushed voice, and Gilbert nodded because God did he want to. Gil watched him smile under a flash of turquoise and it made his heart do something funny and felt him grab his hand, tight and steady as he was led through the crowd. 

They broke through the front door, stumbling out into the cool night air. The guy was  _ a lot  _ drunker than he was, swaying slightly as they smiled at each other. He was good looking, light brown, straight hair somehow holding a messy bounciness, eyes bright in the glow of streetlights. He was shorter than Gil, but not by much. 

“My house is close, let’s go,” the brunette said, flashing a grin as he began pulling Gil down the sidewalk, the stranger, for his part, mostly stumbling. 

“Lemme…” Gil murmured, stopping to pull the stranger closer, hooking an arm around his waist to stabilize him. 

“What a gentleman,” he said, putting an arm around Gil’s shoulder. Gil could feel his face flush at their sudden proximity. He glanced back to the club and frowned a little. 

“Hold on,” Gil sighed, retrieving his phone from his pocket. As he navigated the puzzle that was his iPhone with his tipsy mind, his companion moved closer, one hand palming at the side of Gilbert’s neck, thumbing over his jawline. It was distracting, sending warmth through his face and down his neck. 

“Woah,” he breathed. “Your eyes are red!” he said with a wide grin. Gil glanced down at him, giving him a small smile. 

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. That hand moved across his face, thumb pulling on the skin beneath his eye. 

“Is it contacts? That’s so cool!” the stranger murmured. Gil laughed, closing his eyes and grabbing his hand. 

“No, no, I’m an albino,” Gilbert explained. “They’re real.”

“Man, that’s awesome!” he said, leaning his cheek against Gilbert’s shoulder. He was warm. Gilbert turned his attention back to his phone. He opened the messages app and sent a text to Toni and Francis, explaining that he’d decided to go home. 

“Texting your boyfriend?” the brunette beside him murmured.

“Nah, they’re more like my parents,” Gil said with a half smile. The brunette laughed. 

“You’re so cute,” he sighed and Gilbert shook his head, feeling his face burn again, and decided to ignore it as they began walking again. “And you’re so nice… has anyone ever told you how nice you are? And how cute you are, too,” he rambled, leaning against Gil completely now. They stood at a corner, and Gil looked around with a small frown. 

“Which way?” Gil asked quietly, nudging the brunette’s side. 

“This way,” he huffed, grabbing the front of Gil’s shirt and pulling him down firmly. Their lips collided, uncoordinated and open-mouthed. The stranger didn’t seem to mind, and Gil found himself not minding very much either. 

Kissing a guy was kind of like kissing a girl. The same but not quite. 

“Wow,” Gilbert breathed when he pulled away, and the stranger let out a breathy, vodka scented laugh. 

“But seriously, this way,” he muttered, pulling away abruptly to lead Gil down a small side street. He frowned as he glanced around. It was dark, only a few streetlights on either end of the alley lighting their way. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea? The stranger suddenly stopped, and pulled Gil up a set of narrow stairs, digging in the front pocket of his tight jeans. He produced a set of keys as they reached a side door to the building, and promptly dropped them upon attempting to open the thing. Gil laughed, and the stranger did too, both bending to retrieve them at the same time. 

His lips were caught again, this one their clumsiest kiss yet. The odd brunette leaned too close, pushing Gilbert off his balance and back against the door. He followed, practically climbing into Gil’s lap to chase that kiss. Gil pulled away, unsure of where to put his hands or mouth or where the keys were or anything. 

“You’re too drunk for this,” Gil found himself saying, and the stranger sighed, leaning his head forward until their foreheads touched.  

“I know,” he murmured. “You’re just so cute,” he said, and Gilbert laughed, shaking his head. 

He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t. The stranger was just drunk, the night was just dark. Gilbert helped him up, found the keys, got the door unlocked. The stranger slipped off his shoes as he walked into the small apartment. It was homey, art decorating the walls, furniture following a color scheme. The brunette flicked on lights as he walked into the small kitchen, Gilbert watching him through the kitchen hole. 

“I’m gonna go then,” Gil called, setting the keys on a table beside the door. 

“What!” the stranger cried, whirling around and putting on a pout. “But you were so nice to me! I’ll make you tea! Let’s watch a movie!”

Before Gilbert could object, the stranger was hurrying back over to him, pushing hands under his coat. 

“Take this off. Stay a while?” he said with a smile. Gil chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before sighing.

“Fine,” he mumbled, letting his coat be taken. 

And that’s how he ended up sitting on a stranger’s couch watching The Notebook, all wrapped up with said stranger. Gil was exhausted, the movie was boring, the brunette was  _ so warm _ , and it really wasn’t his fault that he fell asleep. 

~~

He woke up the next morning in movement in the bed next to him. That was weird. He lived alone. He slowly opened his eyes. It was so  _ bright _ , the strain of the sun making his eyes ache. The bed smelled like fabric softener and mint, and he groaned softly as he brought a hand to his head. 

“Are you awake?” a voice asked, and then his vision was blotted out by a face, brown eyes, brown hair, tan skin, beauty marks.  _ Stranger.  _

“W-What?” Gilbert mumbled, sitting up then, covering his eyes as he did. 

“I guess you are,” the brunette teased. Gilbert wasn’t wearing a shirt. He wasn’t wearing pants either, sitting beneath the covers of this strange bed in only boxers. He finally looked over at the stranger beside him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either. “Does your ass hurt? Mine doesn’t, so I don't think we fucked.”

_ What? _

“What?” Gil asked quietly, voice still rough with sleep. 

“Does your ass hurt?” the brunette repeated himself, and Gilbert shook his head slowly, running a hand through his hair as his memory slowly began to come back to him. 

Club, vodka, laughing, turquoise,  _ kissing, touching, pulling,  _ walking, talking, texting,  _ kissing, kissing, lips soft, eyes wide, hands steady— _

Gil stood up abruptly. The stranger watched him do so, eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, and Gilbert felt as though he might be sick. 

“Bathroom?” 

“Yeah, down the hall,” he said, and Gilbert took off out of the room, bursting into the small room, collapsing in front of the toilet. His stomach churned as he stared down at the water of a  _ stranger’s toilet.  _

A  _ male  _ stranger. 

One which he’d  _ gone home with, with the intention of having sex with him.  _

One which he’d  _ kissed,  _ and  _ liked.  _

Gilbert threw up. 

There was a soft knock on the door as Gil sighed hoarsely, catching his breath as he looked up at the stranger. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“What did you say your name is?” Gil breathed, squinting a bit. 

“Oh,” the stranger visibly blushed, straightening. “Feliciano!” he said, shoving a hand out to Gil. Gil took it, shaking it slightly. 

“Gilbert,” he introduced. They looked at each other for a few moments, Feliciano smiling sweetly, Gilbert grimacing, still holding hands. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Sorry,” he said as he pulled his hand away. “I’ll let you clean up. There’s…” he trailed off, bending to open a drawer beside the sink. He produced a new toothbrush in its packaging. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you… need me.” 

Gilbert nodded, giving him a weak smile before he shut the door.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

Gil stood after a few minutes, flushed the toilet, washed his face, brushed his teeth. He sighed as he looked into the mirror. He had a few small bruises along his neck and brushed his fingers along the marks. 

_ The Notebook, cuddling, kissing, blanket, kissing, warm, soft… _

Feliciano had been really drunk. Gilbert hadn’t been exactly sober either. For some reason, he didn't…  _ regret  _ it. His head hurt, sure, but… he’d had a nice night, despite his partner testing his sexuality. He exited the bathroom, deciding it would be best to get dressed. 

Apparently, the two had decided to move from the couch to the bed in the middle of the night, shedding their clothes along the way. It was easy to find his, as his stood in stark contrast to his host’s. Where Feliciano wore bright jewel tones, everything Gilbert had been wearing the night before had been black. He got dressed quickly, finding his phone on the small table beside the bed. 

‘ _ where are u?’  _

_ ‘You aren’t home, ami.’ _

_ ‘Text us back!’ _

Along with a myriad of threats and other sweet messages from his friends. He sent them a text explaining that he’d gone home with someone, putting his phone away. He walked out into the front room, wandering into the open kitchen just as Feliciano dropped a coffee mug. 

“Shit!” he swore, sighing as he bent to pick up the shards. Gilbert bent as well, and Feliciano looked up at him with a small smile. 

Gilbert was consumed with deja vu as their hands brushed together. 

“Your eyes are red,” Feliciano murmured, tipping his head to the side curiously as they stared into each other’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” Gil huffed, nodding a little. “I-I’m an albino,” he said softly, and Feliciano’s eyes lit up. 

“That’s so cool!” he said, grinning. Gil nodded, shrugging nonchalantly before looking down to the shattered cup on the floor. He piled some of the larger shards together, collecting them in one hand. 

“Garbage?”

Feliciano opened a cupboard under the sink, and retrieved a small garbage bin, holding it out to Gil. He finished cleaning up, and stood, sighing softly. Feliciano stood as well, smiling up at Gilbert. Feliciano had gotten dressed as well, wearing a tank top and loose joggers. 

“I’m trying to make coffee if you want to stay for a while…” Feliciano trailed off. Gilbert debated it. He was off work today, and he really didn’t have anything better to do. Fran and Antonio were probably blowing up his phone with teasing texts, and he really didn’t feel like facing them yet. 

“Yeah, sure,” Gil said with a smile. “Are you hungry? I could cook,” he offered, and Feliciano visibly brightened, beaming up at him. 

“That sounds awesome!”

Gilbert took over in the kitchen, suddenly thankful for his job. Objectively, being a prep chef was amazing. Gil didn’t have any prior training, but he knew enough to learn, and with the help of Francis’ connections, he was hired at one of the nicest places in town. It would be the perfect job if the sous chef wasn’t such a fucking dickbag. Gil loved to cook, especially because he was around so many dangerous things all the time, providing fuel for gory, horrific fantasies about how to permanently get rid of his awful boss. Lovino Vargas was rude just to be rude. He loved to single Gilbert out for not having gone to culinary school, even though  _ Lovino wasn’t even old enough to had gone himself.  _

“So, what do you do?” Feliciano asked as Gilbert cracked an egg into the hashbrowns that were already sizzling away in the pan. Gil glanced over at him, watching him sip from his coffee cup, peering over the rim with a small smirk. 

“Oh, I work at  _ Capitale _ ,” he said with a smile. “The one downtown.”

“No way! My brother works there too!” Feliciano said brightly. “Lovino, he’s the sous chef,” Feliciano said proudly, smiling wide. 

“Lovino’s  _ your brother?”  _ Gilbert asked, raising a brow. He couldn’t imagine someone as sweet as Feliciano being related to the devil that was Lovino. 

“Yeah!” Feliciano said with a laugh. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s…” Gilbert trailed off, glancing away. Feliciano laughed out loud, bending forward as he did. 

“What, you don’t think Lovino is an angel?” he asked with a grin. 

“No, no! He’s…” Gil searched for a word. “nice,” he finally said, making Feliciano laugh again. 

“I could never work with Lovino. That sounds like… like working in a carpeted match factory,” Feliciano snorted, and Gilbert couldn’t help but laugh then too. 

“Yeah,” Gil said, and they were quiet for a few moments. “Did he ever… go to culinary school?” he asked after a few moments. 

“Oh, no. Our grandfather owns  _ Capitale _ and taught him everything he knows. You might know him? He’s also the head chef, but he isn’t around much,” Feliciano said with a noncommittal shrug. 

Gilbert had a sudden memory of Francis mentioning his rather…  _ saucy _ relationship with the head chef, and immediately made himself forget it. 

“Hm,” Gilbert hummed, looking back down at the breakfast hash he had going. “Uh, what do you do?” he asked as he nudged at the hashbrowns. 

“I’m an artist!” Feliciano said cheerfully. “I have a studio downstairs.”

“Oh,” Gilbert said with a nod. Prep chef didn’t sound so glamorous anymore. “Are you any good?” he asked, flashing a grin as he turned around. 

“I think I’m quite good,” Feliciano replied as they locked eyes. Something in the brunette’s eyes made Gilbert’s stomach knot. His heart thrummed in his ears, and he swiped his tongue across his bottom lip nervously. Grease suddenly popped in the pan, making him jump and turn back to the stove. 

“I-It’s done,” he stammered. Feliciano stood, fetching a few plates from a cupboard. They dished up and sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. 

They ate in relative silence. The food was… okay. Gil had been a little heavy on the pepper, and the eggs were just a little overcooked. Feliciano didn’t seem to mind, thanking him multiple times throughout the meal. Feliciano rinsed the dishes and joined him at the table again. 

“So,” Feliciano said quietly. “this is weird, right?”

“What do you mean?” Gil asked. 

“I mean… not that I do this often, it’s just… one night stands don’t usually last this long, right?” Feliciano said with a small laugh. Gil bit down on the inside of his cheek, glancing down at his coffee cup. 

“No, I-I guess they don’t,” he said with a smile as he looked up at his host. 

“So…” Feliciano hummed, glancing away before gently putting his hand on top of Gil’s, a light flush traveling across his face. 

“Oh,” Gilbert said, pulling his hand away. “Oh. Um. I’ve never… I don't…” Gil paused, staring down at his lap. “I’m straight?” 

Feliciano was silent as he stared at Gilbert. 

“That’s…” he finally started, and Gilbert glanced up at him. “Um… I mean, it’s not  _ okay _ , that’s shitty, Gilbert,” he said, furrowing his brows. 

“What?” 

“I said that it’s shitty. You came home with me. We watched  _ The Notebook.  _ I couldn't even get my last  _ boyfriend  _ to watch The Notebook with me,” Feliciano said, crossing his arms. “I woke up to you latched onto me like a leech! We  _ kissed.  _ You have those marks on your neck. Straight guys don’t just…” Feliciano trailed off with a sigh. “I can't… make you do anything, obviously, but like… don’t  _ lie  _ to yourself, dude.”

“I am not  _ lying  _ to myself,” Gilbert scoffed. “W-Who are you to…” he grimaced and stood up. “You’re right. One night stands don’t last this long. Thanks for breakfast,” Gilbert said, leaving the kitchen. 

“This reaction is  _ textbook _ denial!” Feliciano said as he stood. He followed Gilbert to the door, standing beside him with his arms crossed as Gil bent to put on his shoes. “You can’t just ignore things because they make you uncomfortable!”

“That is  _ not _ what I’m doing!” Gilbert blanched, shooting a glare to the brunette before turning back to his shoes, tying them in a hurry. 

“Then what are you doing? What were you doing last night?”

“I was…” Gilbert trailed off. He set his jaw, furrowing his brows. “Have a good life, Feliciano,” he said decidedly, before pulling open the front door and stepping out into the midday sun. The door was slammed behind him, and Gilbert felt his shoulders hike up. He growled in the back of his throat, fists clenched. 

“Whatever,” he sighed to himself as he began to descend the stairs, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

He couldn’t wait to forget that night. 


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert had forgotten his  _ fucking jacket.  _

It wouldn’t have been a big deal if it was any other jacket, but it was the blazer Francis had bought him the first time they’d all went out together, and even Gilbert thought he looked good in it. 

Which was why he dragged himself all the way across town the next day, grimacing the entire time. His shift started in a couple of hours, so he had plenty of time to get his jacket back, go home, maybe even take a shower if he was lucky. 

He found Feliciano’s apartment with relative ease, the mural of sunflowers and roses painted along the side of the narrow yellow building a good indicator. He climbed the stairs two at a time, wholly ignoring the painting beside him. The last thing he needed was to  _ admire  _ Feliciano. He needed his jacket back. 

He knocked on the door when he reached it, leaning against the door frame as he waited. When no one came after a full minute, he knocked again. When no one came after a full  _ five  _ minutes, he could feel himself growing frustrated. He’d try again tomorrow. He walked down the stairs slowly, looking up at the painting on the wall beside him. 

It was beautiful, vibrant but not in a childish way, holding nobility even as it splashed its neon blue and canary yellow and royal red. Feliciano  _ was  _ good.

What had he said yesterday? The studio was downstairs? The only door to the ground floor in the alley was a heavy metal handless fire exit. He wandered out of the alley and onto the main street making his way slowly. 

This street was in the shop district, it, along with the others, containing local businesses. Small eateries, galleries, tourist traps… a place so concerned with its looks was a nice contrast to the industrial downtown Gil mostly found himself in. He took the squat stairs up to the front porch of Feliciano’s studio, the facade of the place mimicking that of an old western storefront. 

A bell above the door jangled as he entered, and he grimaced at the noise. He was somewhat disappointed when he realized the main room of the studio was empty. Feliciano  _ had  _ to be here. He wouldn’t leave his studio unlocked, right? 

After a few moments of waiting, Gilbert began to look around. The pieces hanging on the walls held that same sense of dignity the mural had. Many of them were portraits and would remind Gil of the Renaissance era if not for the splashes of jewel tones interrupting them. As erratic as the slashes of magenta and cyan seemed, they were still so… powerful. They really pulled the pieces together. 

There was an easel set up near the window, the front facing away from Gilbert. He drew close, peeking around the side to get a look. It was an unfinished portrait, sketch lines consuming most of the medium sized canvas. A layer of neutral toned base colors were drying. It looked as though Feliciano had just started today. A palette sat on a small table beside the easel. Bright red, white, cream, navy blue… Gilbert glanced back up at the portrait. It seemed… familiar? 

“What are you doing here?” a sudden voice spooking him so badly he nearly jumped. He turned to see Feliciano, holding a tub of small tubes of paint and paint brushes. He wore a paint-splattered apron over his equally brightly colored outfit and a rather pointed glare. 

“I, um,” Gilbert started intelligently. “I left my jacket?”

“Okay,” Feliciano said with a small shrug. 

“I’d like it back?”

“That’s nice,” he said, nudging Gilbert out of the way to get to his easel. 

“Please?” Gilbert added. They caught each other’s eyes. Feliciano sighed after a moment. 

“Okay. If you go on a date with me.”

“ _ What? _ ” Gilbert huffed, chuckling as he did. “Why would I do that? I thought we already established our dynamic.”

“No, we established that you’re a big baby who’s afraid of his own sexuality,” Feliciano said with a smirk. Gilbert glared. 

“What kind of…  _ perverted  _ little game are you playing at! You can’t blackmail me into a date with you! Give me my jacket!”

“This isn't blackmailing. I’m asking nicely. Trade and barter and all that,” Feliciano said, face breaking into a grin. “C’mon. One date. A couple of drinks and you can have your jacket back.” 

Gilbert frowned. It was getting more and more believable that Feliciano and Lovino were related. 

“Or, y’know… not. I bet I could sell that thing. Might even get extra because it belonged to an albino,” Feliciano hummed pensively as he picked up the palette and a paintbrush. 

“Fine!” Gilbert snapped. “Fine,” he sighed, scrubbing over his face with one hand. “When?”

“Are you free Saturday night?” Feliciano asked as he began mixing colors. 

“No,” he said, crossing his arms. Gilbert couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a Saturday off. It was the busiest night of the week. 

“Can you get free?” Feliciano asked, dragging his eyes from the pale pink he was mixing to Gilbert. He added a bit more cream. 

“No. I work. Unless you talk to your brother or something,” Gilbert scoffed. 

“Okay!” Feliciano said with a grin, looking up at Gilbert. He shoved a hand out to him. “It’s a deal.” 

Gilbert glanced at his hand dubiously, before finally taking it and giving it a firm shake. 

“Can I have your number then?” Feliciano asked with a smirk. Gilbert pulled his hand away to grab his phone but was stopped by Feliciano grabbing his wrist.

He watched as Feliciano scooped some bright red onto a thin, flat brush. He held it out to Gil, a Cheshire Cat smile cracked across his face. 

“Write it,” he hummed, glancing at the still in progress canvas. 

“What?”

“Write it. Go on,” he said, letting go of his hand and holding out the paintbrush more insistently. 

“It’s… your painting…”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll write if, if you want,” Feliciano said, pulling the paintbrush away. 

“No, I’ll do it,” Gilbert huffed, grabbing the paintbrush. He glanced from it to the canvas, and then to Feliciano as he leaned in, waiting to be laughed at and scolded. When he wasn’t, he leaned closer and took in a breath as he made the first brush stroke of his area code off to the white space beside the subject. 

“That’s too small,” Feliciano complained. 

“How are you going to cover it up if it’s any bigger?”

“Why would I cover it up?” the brunette asked, tipping his head to the side minutely. Gilbert grimaced at him. 

“Because it’s my number, on your art. Why would you keep that in?”

“Are you gonna write it or not?”

Gilbert sighed and finished writing out his number, having to lean over Feliciano for more paint multiple times. He set the brush down and crossed his arms when he’d finished.  

“I’ll text you,” Feliciano said cheerfully as he picked up the palette again. Gilbert narrowed his eyes, words piling up on his tongue. He decided to swallow them, shaking his head as he turned on his heel. 

“Later,” he muttered, before leaving. 

Gilbert had splotches of paint on his hands. He didn’t even know  _ how  _ they got there. He hadn’t even touched blue or yellow or pink or the skin tone Feliciano had been mixing, but there they all were, pressed against the back of one of his hands. 

Gilbert couldn’t help but think it was quite beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days passed without consequence. Gilbert didn’t get any texts from Feliciano. Lovino was somehow  _ more  _ hostile than normal.  _ But _ , he  _ was _ taken off the schedule for Saturday. Part of him hoped that Feliciano just didn’t text him so he could actually enjoy a Saturday. 

But he did. 

And then he wouldn’t stop. 

The first text came on Friday morning. 

‘ _ Hey, it’s Feli, are we still on for tomorrow? :)’  _

_ ‘yea, as long as you still plan on giving me my jacket back’ _

_ ‘I said I would! Let’s meet at my studio at 7. Wear something that goes with the jacket.’ _

Gilbert had rolled his eyes at that. They were going for drinks. Why would what he wore matter? 

And then came the memes. The pictures and videos were, admittedly, funny, but they were all so…  _ stupid  _ and  _ sweet _ , and Gil found himself grinning at his phone multiple times throughout the day. Most of them involved cats and heart emojis. 

And  _ then _ came the pictures. Feliciano kept sending him selfies. He’d stop with an apparently random stranger and takeo a photo with them, captioning it with something along the lines of  _ ‘Such an interesting face!’  _ or ‘ _ What a nice smile!’  _ He also sent a few of him with various cats, ranging from short haired strays stretched out in a sunny patch of dirt to long-haired domestics, which he held close, grinning widely. 

Feliciano was… really cute. Even Gilbert could admit that. He was straight not  _ blind.  _ He even had a small dimple when he smiled extra big, which in Gilbert’s opinion, had to be some sort of overkill.

So when the day finally came, after a week of complaining to Francis and Gilbert, after a few days of holding back a smile whenever he got a text from Feliciano, after having to put up with Lovino’s  _ especially _ sour attitude… Gilbert was a little nervous.  

Which was stupid, of course. He was going to chug a couple rum and cokes, get his jacket back, and never see Feliciano again. There was no reason to be nervous. He checked the mirror three times, frowning at the way his clothes hung off his frame, even  _ texted Francis asking if he looked okay _ , before finally forcing himself out the door. It would be fine. There was absolutely no reason to be be this nervous, but still he tugged at his baggy black sweater, and picked lint from his jeans as the bus roared around him. 

And then he stood in front of Feliciano’s studio. He let out a sigh, seriously considering just leaving and forgetting the stupid jacket. The studio poured light onto the darkened sidewalk, and he glanced over at a couple as they approached, he moved out of the way, but was confused as he watched them climb the steps and enter the studio. He furrowed his brows and followed them, opening the door to realize the small studio was packed with people, milling about with drinks in their hands, studying and chatting about the works on the walls. 

Jacket. He needed his jacket. 

He took a breath before pushing into the crowd, apologizing as he moved, a small polite smile plastered onto his face. His elbow was caught, and he turned to see a short woman with greying black hair and a pleasant expression. 

“Are you the model?” she asked, smiling expectantly. 

“Excuse me?” Gilbert asked softly, furrowing his brows minutely. 

“In the portrait? It’s just beautiful. He has such a way with the brush, wouldn’t you say?” she asked, and Gilbert nodded absently. Portrait? Model?  _ What? _ He excused himself, setting on a new expression. He had to find Feliciano. 

There was a group of people along the back wall, gathered around a focal point, and he set off for it. He nudged his way into the people, and was  _ immediately horrified _ when he broke through. 

Hanging on the wall, just a few inches from his face, was a portrait of him. He was smiling, surrounded by overlapping numbers all done in primary colors. He immediately spotted  _ his phone number  _ amongst them, and that just made him madder. 

“And here’s the model now,” a voice said sweetly, and his gaze snapped to Feliciano, who was smiling brightly at him. Gilbert’s face was suddenly on  _ fire,  _ and he glared at the other male as he grabbed Gilbert’s arm, tugging him out of the crowd. 

“Feliciano,” he muttered, but the brunette wholly ignored him, attention on the crowd stood in front of them, eagerly waiting for more information. 

Gilbert had never felt more embarrassed in his life, and Feliciano didn’t even seemed fazed. He seemed to be living for the attention. Gilbert grimaced. 

Why not. 

Gilbert put an arm around Feliciano’s waist, pulling him closer. Feliciano looked up at him, face finally showing something other than that pleased smirk. 

“Feliciano here didn’t mention that he’s been working on a portrait of me, so I’m as surprised as all of you,” he said with a wide, patently fake smile. “But what a perfect present for our anniversary,” he said, looking to Feliciano. He looked  _ mortified _ for a moment, before his expression snapped back to that smile. 

“Yes,” Feliciano laughed, leaning into Gilbert then. “He should consider himself lucky I didn't depict him with the expression he makes when he c—“

“That’s quite enough, dear,” Gilbert said stiffly, shooting him a glare. A chuckle traveled through the crowd, and Gilbert smiled awkwardly. “I need to talk to you,” he said as he looked down at Feliciano. 

“Oh, but I was going to—“

“No, come on,” Gilbert grunted, taking Feliciano’s hand and pulling him from the crowd. He led Feliciano to the back area, and once he was sure they were out of earshot, he whirled around, glaring at Feliciano with such an intensity that he tensed. 

“Let me explain—“

“No.  _ No,  _ Feliciano!” he growled, raking his hands through his hair and pulling frustratedly. “I cannot… you… oh my  _ God,  _ Feliciano! You can’t just do that to someone! And then do this?!” he struggled to keep his voice down, but honestly, he didn’t care. This wasn’t cool. 

“I’m sorry, Gil, I just—“

“Yeah, you just… God, you just… painted _ me  _ **and** made me participate in it _ ,  _ and then brought all these  _ people  _ here to look at  _ it  _ and  _ me,  _ and n-now they all think we’re  _ dating  _ a-and—“ 

“Gilbert?” Feliciano’s voice came quietly, and when he touched his arm gently, Gilbert felt like he was going to explode. 

“No, Feliciano!” he said again, his voice coming hoarse then. “This is really  _ fucking  _ uncool!”

“I’m sorry, Gilbert,” Feliciano said again, looking genuine as he frowned. “I can take it down and scrap it, if you want,” he offered. Gilbert took a few deep breaths, pressing his palms together and against his nose as he breathed, forcing himself to calm down. 

“Yes. I would like that. Please do that. Can I have my jacket,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. He wanted to leave. He shouldn’t have even come here in the first place. 

“Yeah it’s… it’s upstairs. We can go up there together,” Feliciano said with a small nod. 

“Good,” Gilbert nodded, and couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that shot through his chest as Feliciano turned and walked away from him. Gilbert sighed before following, hardening his jaw as he entered the room of people again. Feliciano was immediately stopped by a few people, and Gilbert hung back awkwardly. The group gushed over Feliciano for a few minutes, and he seemed to perk up, just a bit as they talked. 

“Is this your boyfriend, then?” a woman asked with a bright smile, and Feliciano glanced back at him, a conflicted look on his face. 

“Uh,” Gilbert said intelligently. “Yes,” he said, stepping forward with a half smile. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet! How did you two meet?”

“Uhh,” Gilbert started, glancing down at Feliciano, who returned his nervous smile. 

“We… He… works at my grandfather’s restaurant,” Feliciano supplied after a few seconds of silence. “He’s a chef,” he said with a grin, putting a hand on Gil’s chest. 

“Handsome  _ and  _ he can cook? What a dream,” a man commented, and the group laughed. Gilbert glanced away, laughing awkwardly. 

“Yeah, he really is,” Feliciano said fondly, leaning his head against Gilbert’s chest. He could feel his face flush, and he rolled his eyes a bit as he bit back a smile. 

“And you are not,” Gilbert murmured, poking Feliciano’s side. He yelped, and covered his mouth, shooting a glare at Gil, who just laughed. The group of people laughed as well, and Feliciano took Gilbert’s hand, holding it loosely. Feliciano made up some sort of excuse, and as soon as they were out of the conversation, they were immediately approached by more people. 

Gilbert played boyfriend, picking up a glass of wine along the way as he laughed with people and teased Feliciano. They probably could’ve gotten through the crowd much faster, but they didn’t, and… Gilbert found himself having a good time. By the time they finally got to the door, there really weren’t many people left in the studio space. Gilbert leaned against the wall beside the door, sighing tiredly. Socializing was exhausting, especially at that volume. Feliciano leaned against the wall beside him, looking out at the studio. 

“I’m…” Gilbert started, and sighed. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay,” Feliciano said. “I should’ve asked or at least told you.” 

“No, I mean…  _ yeah, _ you should’ve told me, but blowing up like that wasn’t cool,” Gilbert sighed. They were quiet for another few moments. “I had a nice time tonight,” he muttered. 

“Yeah?” Feliciano asked, turning to look at him, a grin on his face. “You wanna become my official fake boyfriend?” 

Gilbert snorted, rolling his eyes as he let out a laugh. 

“Absolutely not. You’ll have to trap me into a few more dates if you want this hot body,” Gilbert joked. 

“Fine,” Feliciano hummed. 

“Do  _ not.” _

“No promises,” Feliciano beamed. 

By the time they made their way upstairs, it was nearly ten o’clock. Gilbert’s muscles hurt from standing for so long. His head hurt, and all he wanted was to lay down. He leaned against Feliciano’s wall, rubbing one eye tiredly. He yawned, covering his mouth as he did. 

“You doing okay?” Feliciano asked with a grin as he pulled his deep purple scarf off and hung it on a hook beside Gilbert. 

“Hm, yeah,” Gilbert muttered, pushing off the wall to make himself stand. 

“You look really tired.”

“I am,” Gil sighed. 

“You could… stay here tonight, if you want,” Feliciano offered. “On the couch, y’know. Platonically.” 

Gilbert’s tired brain buffered at an lethargic speed. 

“Um…” he sighed. “Yeah, okay,” he said with a nod before yawning again. 

“Okay,” Feliciano said with a grin. “You can borrow clothes, if you want. We can watch a movie!” 

Gilbert couldn’t care less. He needed to get off his feet immediately. 

And  _ that’s  _ how he ended up sitting on Feliciano’s couch again. He’d brought out a large duvet, and gave Gilbert some old pajama bottoms. He’d also started a movie, and had gotten so engrossed in it that he sat down beside Gilbert. 

He wasn’t sure when they’d fallen asleep, but he did remember drifting off to warm thoughts of vibrant colors and honey toned smiles. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew..... This has gotta be the most characters I’ve ever written in one chapter... anyways, fan service time u___u

Gilbert woke up to his face full of fabric. His muscles ached in protest as he began to move. He opened his eyes, breathing in slowly as he sat up. He’d been laying on his stomach, arms wrapped around something warm. He blinked blearily and found himself staring down at Feliciano’s sleeping face. His body was in between Feli’s legs, and his arms still sat loosely draped around Gilbert’s shoulders. They were surrounded by a thick white duvet, and he was so comfortable that he really just wanted to lay back down.

And he probably could’ve, if Feliciano hadn’t started stirring as he looked down at him. Feliciano made a soft groaning noise in the back of his throat, one arm slipping from Gilbert’s shoulder to cover his neck and chest area. He moved to turn onto his side, but wasn’t able to, as Gilbert was in the way. Feliciano made that quiet groan of protest as he breathed in. His eyes slowly opened, and there they were, staring at each other.

“Good morning,” Feliciano murmured tiredly, arm moving back to its position, absently burying his fingers in Gilbert’s hair, a sleepy smile on his face.

Gilbert did _not_ want to tell him to stop.

This moment was so soft, so impossibly slow, Gilbert wanted to live in it forever.

“Morning,” he found himself replying, a small smile pulling at his lips until it grew into a full grin. They stayed like that for a while, warm and close. Feliciano carded his fingers through Gil’s hair, pulling him closer as he did. Gilbert found himself moving willingly, and when their lips met, it wasn’t anything monumental. The kiss was perfect, but Gilbert knew it would be before it even happened. He pulled away to rest his forehead against the brunette’s, the space beneath their mouths barely there and yet somehow too much.

“Your breath is awful,” Feliciano murmured, and Gilbert laughed.

“Then I’ll take my mouth elsewhere,” he said, before burying his face in Feliciano’s neck, and grabbing his sides. Feliciano erupted into a fit of laughter, kicking his legs up and trapping Gilbert between them in a vice grip.

“Stop!” Feliciano cried between laughs as he attempted to curl into a ball to avoid Gilbert’s merciless hands. Gil finally did so when Feliciano grabbed both of his hands, lacing their fingers together and holding them tight. They looked at each other then, panting and grinning. Feliciano’s face was flushed, making his eyes look even brighter than normal.

“I love you,” Feliciano said quietly, and Gilbert smiled. The warmth that bloomed through his chest wasn’t weird, because it happened all the time. Feeling loved and in love were feelings Gilbert had become quite familiar with.

Suddenly music began playing. The tone was annoying and repetitive, the tones too high and too chirpy. It hurt Gilbert’s head, and he shut his eyes tight.

When he opened them, he was somewhere else. The duvet was there, and so was Feliciano, but the living room didn’t have that warm glow of sunlight that couldn’t be there, and the duvet was not nearly as soft. Also, Feliciano’s legs were draped across Gilbert’s body, his feet resting near his face. And his phone was still ringing. He grimaced, pushing the brunette’s feet off to slowly unearth himself from the couch. His phone was ringing and buzzing away on the coffee table, and he seized it with still sleep clumsy hands. He didn’t even look at who was calling before answering.

“Hello,” he sighed, as he pressed the phone to his ear and leaned back.

“Good morning, brother.”

It was Ludwig, because who else would it be at 8 am on a Sunday.

“Good morning. How are you?” Gilbert said. He glanced over at Feliciano, who stared back at him with the sleepiest expression any human being could ever muster.

“I’m doing quite well. My classes are easier than I expected and I’m considering taking a figure drawing class. How is work?” Ludwig spoke with his usual formality, and Gilbert couldn’t help but smile.

Ludwig was going to college out of state. He’d paid for most of it with various scholarships, and worked part time to cover the rest. They normally called every weekend, and Gilbert should’ve assumed it was his brother when answering the phone. Knowing Ludwig, it was most likely 8:30 on the dot.

“Works good. My boss is still difficult, but what else is new,” he said with a small laugh. “Work is good, though,” he said with a nod.

“And your personal life?” Ludwig asked. Gilbert glanced over at Feliciano again, who was now stretched over his arm rest, groaning when his back popped.

“Nothing new there either,” Gilbert said definitively. “Francis and Toni are good. Fran’s got this meeting about a portfolio thing with some brand that he’s been all wrapped up in for the past few weeks and Toni’s… Toni,” he said with a smirk. His brother chuckled fondly at that.

“Maybe you could get him a job at _Capitale?_ ” Ludwig suggested.

“I’ve tried that. And he… does, technically, I guess? Whenever our dishwasher doesn’t come in, he just kinda shows up?” Gilbert looked up when he heard movement beside him, and watched Feliciano stand and stretch, his top riding up with the motion and exposing his lower back. Gilbert looked away quickly, staring straight ahead and holding his phone too tight as he tuned back into whatever his brother was saying.

“—find his place. You are a very good friend and an excellent example for him,” he complimented, and Gilbert rolled his eyes, letting out a breath of laugh. Feliciano nudged his shoulder, and he looked up at him.

“Coffee?” he asked quietly, and Gilbert nodded, but grabbed the brunette’s hand as he turned away when he had a sudden thought.

“Could you put a pan on the stove with some butter in it? I want to make food,” he said quietly, pressing the microphone of his phone against his shoulder as he spoke. Feliciano nodded, but then paused.

“How much butter?” he asked.

“I don't know, not a lot,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Gil, you might not know this, but in cooking you do this thing called _measuring_ —“

“I’m not giving you a measurement of butter to grease a pan! Christ!” Gilbert huffed, and nudged Feliciano away as he laughed. Gilbert shook his head, before finally remembering the phone call. “Sorry about that,” he said, a sheepish smile finding its way into his face even though his brother couldn’t even see him.

“That’s alright,” Ludwig said. “Are you with someone?” he asked after a beat, and Gilbert laughed awkwardly.

“No, I’m not with anyone. I haven’t been for a long time, and you know that—“

“I mean currently. Right now. Physically.”

“ _No!_ ”

“That is not what I mean either!” his brother practically cried. “I mean are you... hanging out with anyone right now? Did someone spend the night with you?”

“Uh,” Gilbert started, and frowned. “Yes and no. I slept over at a… friend’s house… He was having a gallery event that ended late so I just slept here.”

“Oh? Who is this friend?”

“Son of a bitch!” Feliciano swore from the kitchen, and Gilbert glanced up at him nervously.

“I really have to go, Ludwig. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you with a long call next week,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh. That’s alright. Have a nice week, Gilbert,” Ludwig said, and he could hear the small smile in his brother’s tone.

“You too. Love you,” he said, before hanging up and dropping his phone on the table. “What are you doing in there?” he called as he stood, stretching with a groan. Feliciano’s couch was nice, but it certainly wasn’t made for two people to stretch out on.

Or at least, not the way they’d done it. Gilbert’s brain was suddenly filled with hazy dream memories of the two of them all wrapped up, kissing, laughing, _I love you_. The dream had felt so real, and Gilbert could feel his heart doing funny things in his chest as he stood completely shell shocked.

“I burned myself,” Feliciano whined, snapping him from his state.

“How did you do that?!” Gilbert asked, before finally joining him in the kitchen.

Feliciano had added way too much butter to the pan that had gotten too hot too fast. The butter popped too much, so Feliciano tried to pour some down the sink, subsequently burning himself on the hot pan.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Gilbert said with a snort, turning the sink on to the coldest it would go. He took Feliciano’s wrist in his hand, and guided it under the flow of the water. He glanced up at the brunette, who frowned, grimacing at the pain.

“You didn’t tell me how much butter to put in the pan!” he whined.

“I also didn’t tell you to pour it out and somehow burn yourself,” he said with a small laugh. “I’ll take care of this, okay? Just sit down, please,” he said, letting go of Feliciano’s arm and opening up the fridge. He found some eggs, milk, mushrooms, and various other ingredients for omelets. He started chopping, mixing, getting the pan hot again. Feliciano sat at the table watching him.

“Do you intend on being a prep cook at _Capitale_ forever?” he asked suddenly as the first omelet sizzled away in the pan.

“What?” Gilbert asked, looking up at the brunette with an easy half smile.

“I just mean… your food is really good, and I imagine you don’t want Lovi bossing you around forever,” he said with a small shrug. _Lovi_. It was weird to hear such a found nickname for someone Gilbert found so intimidating.

“Well, I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I haven’t really thought about it, I guess.”

“Well, you should. You could probably take Lovino’s place, if you really wanted,” Feliciano said as he smirked.

“I didn’t go to culinary school, Feli, I don't really think I have a chance at any higher positions,” Gil said with a small sigh.

“Lovino didn’t go to culinary school. My grandpa didn’t either! And he _owns Capitale_ . You have talent, Gilbert,” he said. Feliciano’s eyes shone with _excitement,_ and they almost were convincing enough for Gilbert to believe him.

“Not really,” Gil said passively. “All I do is whatever Lovino tells me,” he said, turning his attention to the omelet. He grabbed a spatula and flipped it.

“And all Lovino does is what our grandpa tells _him_ ,” Feliciano said. Gilbert shrugged as he looked down at the pan. “Well, whatever. I’m just saying… it’s okay to have aspirations and stuff,” Feliciano said as he stood. He came close, leaning against Gilbert as he reached up. He felt his face immediately heat up at their sudden proximity, and he swallowed hard.

“What are you doing?” Gilbert asked, realizing just how tense he’d gotten.

“Getting the coffee?” the brunette said, raising a brow as he pulled the tin off the shelf above the stove.

“Oh,” he breathed, and nodded, because, _duh._ Why was he so tense?

“You’re so weird,” Feliciano said, and grinned so wide, and Gilbert realized immediately why he was tense. His heart hammered in his ears, and he swallowed hard, looking down at the pan.

Feliciano started the coffee and hopped up on the kitchen counter beside the pot as it gurgled its way through its brew cycle. The smell of coffee filled the small kitchen, and as Gilbert closed his eyes and breathed in, the scene felt like a dream.

_The_ dream.

“Y’know, when you blush it’s really obvious,” Feliciano hummed slyly, and Gilbert shot him a glare.

“I’m not blushing,” he growled, flipping the omelet again.

“Mhmm… what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. I’m not thinking. Give me a plate,” he huffed, holding out one hand and making a grabby motion. Feliciano snorted and rolled his eyes, before retrieving one from the cupboard and handing it over. Gilbert put the omelet on the plate and held it out to the brunette, who smiled brightly.

“For me?” he asked as he took the plate. His tone was obviously exaggerated, but it was just so sweet and so soft, and Gilbert’s heart did something funny in the cage of his ribs. He could feel his face burn, and he turned away in a hurry to begin on his own.

Feliciano began eating at Gilbert poured the eggs into the pan. He leaned against the stove as they began cooking, and sighed quietly.

“This is really good,” Feliciano said cheerfully, and Gilbert smiled sheepishly. After a few moments though, Feliciano began coughing. It was quiet at first, but then he had to completely stop eating to cover his mouth as he coughed. He looked up at Gilbert, and his face was red and splotchy.

“Are there bell peppers in this?” he asked hoarsely. Oh _no_.

“Y-yeah,” Gilbert said with a nervous nod.

“We need to go to the hospital right now,” Feliciano coughed.

The next forty minutes happened in a blur. Gilbert called for an Uber and fretted over Feli while they waited. The car ride went fast, as the driver scolded them for not calling an ambulance, but they did give them the ride for free. Feliciano began wheezing hard, holding his throat and leaning against Gilbert. Gilbert practically carried Feliciano into the ER, accidentally yelling at the woman at the front desk. A doctor and a few nurses came to take Feliciano, and when Gilbert tried to follow, he was stopped by a nurse.

“Only friends and family, sir,” she said, and Gilbert hardened his jaw.

“That’s my boyfriend,” he said, with such confidence and instinctiveness it was hard to remember that he _wasn’t._ She stepped out of the way, and Gilbert took off after the group, following them to a curtained off stall. He hovered awkwardly as they asked him questions and ran through routine tests. His face was so swollen and his breathing sounded so… _difficult._ Gil felt like he was going to throw up.

“And who are you?” a nurse asked.

“Uh, I’m his boyfriend,” he replied.

“How did this happen?”

“I didn't know he’s allergic to bell peppers,” he sighed. She turned around and gave him a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s going to be fine.”

Then they were taken to a room, and Gilbert had to wait outside. He leaned against the wall, sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair. This really _sucked. He_ really sucked. He stood there for what felt like an hour, anxiously drumming his fingers against his thigh as he stared at the paneled ceiling and picked faces out of the textured surface.

Finally, the doctor and nurses left, and Gilbert was allowed into the room. He sat down beside the bed and grimaced as he stared at Feliciano, guilt gnawing at his stomach. He took Feli’s hand, holding it gently, afraid of messing this up too. Feliciano rolled his head over to Gil, smiling tiredly. He already looked much better. The redness was still there, but the swelling looked like it was going down.

“You’re holding my hand,” he murmured hoarsely.

“Yeah, I am,” Gil said quietly. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.”

“Mmm… I didn’t know you were so mad about the painting that you’d try to kill me,” he said with a weak laugh.

“I did _not_ try to kill you. How was I supposed to know you’re allergic to bell peppers? Why do you even have them in your fridge?” Gilbert huffed.

“My brother—“

The door suddenly opened, and in its frame stood Lovino, a 5’3 ball of rage, practically vibrating as he glared at Gilbert.

“You are _so fired_ ,” he growled, and Gilbert swallowed hard.  

“I-I didn’t do it on purpose!” he said, letting go of Feli’s hand as he stood.

“Yeah, but you still did it,” Lovino _snarled._ “You are so lucky there’s a hospital bed with my dying brother on it between us right now.”

“I’m not dying,” Feliciano said softly, a weak cough following it.

“And _you!_ Why are you eating bell pepper?!” he asked, crossing his arms as he looked down at his brother.

“Why are you leaving it in my fridge?” Feliciano replied, a small smirk on his face. Lovino glared at him, and then at Gilbert.

“You need to leave,” he said.

“No, he doesn’t,” Feliciano said and sat up enough to grab Gilbert’s hand. “My _boyfriend_ is allowed to do whatever he wants.”

There was nothing Gilbert wanted to do more than to _leave_ at that moment.

Lovino’s face went a hot red shade of rage as Feliciano pulled him back down into the chair. Lovino stared at him with such malice Gilbert was genuinely afraid he might combust on the spot.

“I-I should probably go… babe,” he said awkwardly as he stood up again. Feliciano frowned. Gilbert smiled halfheartedly and went to grab his phone. He _did_ have it, but he didn’t have his wallet. He must’ve left it in their mad dash out the door. He realized he was still wearing the pajamas he’d borrowed from Feliciano. “I left my wallet at your place,” he said as he sat back down.

“Yeah, that’s on point, because you’re _dumb and stupid and an idiot_ ,” Lovino growled at him, as he finally sat down in the other chair. Feliciano rolled his eyes and turned on his side to face Gilbert.

“You think they’d let you give me a sponge bath?” he asked with a grin, and Gilbert felt his face ignite.

“I should text Toni. He can pick me up,” he announced stiffly. Feliciano snorted. Gilbert stared down at his phone and did so, vaguely explaining the situation. His friend responded within a minute, saying Francis was coming too. Gilbert put his phone away and sighed.

Feliciano reached for his hand, and Gilbert gave it to him. He didn’t even have to think.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, and Feliciano nodded.

“Yeah… tired,” he muttered with a sigh. Gilbert thumbed over his knuckles absently.

“I’m sorry,” he said, frowning.

“It’s not your fault,” Feliciano said with a subtle shrug, squeezing his hand lightly.

“It is,” Lovino said, and Gilbert glanced up to see him glaring at the two. Feliciano pulled his hand away to flip his brother off, who stood up abruptly.

“I’m gonna get coffee,” he muttered, leaving with a huff.

“Is he okay?” Gilbert asked.

“He’s fine. Who you really have to worry about is Grandpa,” Feliciano said with a laugh. Gilbert grimaced.

“Is he… here?”

“Probably?” Feliciano shrugged again. “If they called Lovi, they probably called him.”

Fantastic.

“Pretty cute that you told them you’re my boyfriend,” Feliciano hummed after a few minutes.

“Well, I couldn’t… let you be alone,” Gilbert said with a passive shrug.

“You’re funny,” Feliciano said with a chuckle as he turned back onto his back.

“What do you mean?” Gil asked.

“You’re so good at being bad at avoiding things.”

“I’m not avoiding anything.”

“Oh yeah?” Feliciano hummed, looking over at him. Gilbert glanced away as the door opened.

When he looked up, he was expecting to see Lovino. He was _not_ expecting the tall, scruffy, stone-faced older man that stood before him. He wore a rich red sweater and jeans but had a noble air about him, and Gil was consumed with the urge to apologize _again_ , though this time he didn’t know why. Feliciano sat up, his face lighting up.

“Grandpa!” he said, beaming at the man. He most certainly did not look old enough to be a grandpa, let alone to someone as old as Feliciano. The man leveled his gaze at Gilbert, who swallowed hard.

“I-I’m Gilbert,” he said awkwardly. “Beilschmidt,” he added belatedly.

“Bless you,” the man said evenly, before looking to Feliciano. “How did this happen, Feli?” he asked as he crossed his arms.

“Lovino left bell peppers in my fridge and Gil was trying to make me an omelet and he didn’t know I’m allergic to them and it was an accident,” Feliciano explained in one breath. Feliciano’s grandfather looked from him to Gilbert, almost studying him as he avoided eye contact.

“Do you work for me?” was not a question he was expecting, but it was asked nonetheless. As he spoke, Gilbert realized he had an accent, which he supposed made sense.

“Y-Yes, sir,” Gilbert said.

“Hm,” he looked back to Feliciano. “Was the omelet any good?”

“Yes…?” the brunette said, raising a brow.

“Interesting,” he muttered. Gilbert felt like he was a zoo animal being observed.

“Were you busy? I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important over something as silly as this,” Feliciano said, frowning.

“Oh, not at all. Besides, I always have time for my grandson,” he said with a smile, reaching over to ruffle Feliciano’s hair affectionately. Feliciano had his grandfather’s smile, their overkill dimples identical. Gilbert couldn’t help but feel mediocre in the company of two astonishingly handsome people. “I do not, however, have time for ridiculous insurance paperwork,” he muttered sourly, frowning then. _Then_ he looked like Lovino. Gilbert couldn’t help but be impressed at how equally their grandfather had been split into the two brothers.

“I’m sorry. I could’ve handled that,” Feliciano said, sitting up a bit more.

“You are in a hospital bed, Feliciano. We both know Lovino doesn’t know the first thing about our insurance. And I’m sure this _secchione_ doesn’t either,” he hummed the words, a small smirk on his face.

“ _Grandpa!_ ” Feliciano huffed, shooting him a glare. Gilbert’s phone went off in his hands, and he looked down to see it was Antonio calling him. He stood and excused himself, stepping out of the room to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, dude,” Antonio hummed. “We’re here.”

“Yeah, I assumed,” Gil replied. “Where are you?”

“Just parked. Where are you?”

“Emergency room,” he said, and looked around for a room number. “107?”

“I can’t believe you went to get your jacket but ended up trying to kill the guy instead,” Antonio said with a laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Gilbert cried.

“It’s _hilarious.”_

“Shut up!” Gilbert said, before hanging up. He leaned back against the wall, letting out a quiet sigh. Sundays are supposed to be relaxing, he thought bitterly.

“Hey, _bastardo,_ ” Lovino called to him from the end of the hallway, a small takeout cup of coffee in one hand as he practically stormed towards him.

“It was an _accident,_ Lovino,” Gilbert said.

“I don't care! It still happened!”

“Gilbert!” Antonio called merrily as he turned the corner. Lovino whirled around with a glare so intense it stopped Antonio and Francis in their tracks.

“Who are you?” Lovino growled. His friends were silent for a few moments. Antonio made wide-eyed eye contact with Gilbert over Lovino’s head.

“Francis Bonnefoy, so very nice to meet you,” Fran volunteered, pushing past Antonio to offer his hand. Lovino did not take it.

“They’re here to pick me up. I left my wallet at Feli’s,” Gilbert explained.

“Do _not_ call him that. What about you?” Lovino asked, staring at Antonio with a rather unimpressed expression.

“I’m Toni. Antonio… Carriedo,” he stammered out, giving Lovino a small smile.

“Lovino Vargas,” he said before crossing his arms.

“Vargas?” Francis asked as the door opened, and Feliciano’s grandfather stepped out.

“Francis?” he looked shocked, and Gilbert’s stomach dropped as he remembered their connection.

“Oh… Roma…” Francis said with a nervous smile. “So good to see you again, _ami._ ”

Antonio and Gilbert made eye contact, both wincing. The two knew exactly what Francis friendzoning someone sounded like.

“I’m gonna say goodbye to Feli,” Gilbert said to no one in particular before stepping back into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. “Oh my _god_ ,” he sighed, and Feliciano snorted.

“What?”

“You don’t want to know,” he sighed, practically melting into a chair. Feliciano laughed.

“I think this is going pretty well,” Feli said with a smile.

“My best friend has sexual history with your grandpa and ghosted him.”

“ _What?”_

“Yeah,” Gilbert sighed, and couldn’t help but laugh. Feliciano looked mortified, covering his face with both hands.

“No, he _doesn’t!_ ” Feliciano whined, which only made Gilbert laugh harder, leaning one arm against the plastic handle of the hospital bed. The door suddenly opened, and Lovino and Antonio stepped inside.

“You all need to _leave. Now.”_ Lovino said, crossing his arms.

“Where’s Fran?” Gilbert asked, looking up as he wiped his eyes.

“Uh…”

“He and my _grandfather_ went for lunch,” Lovino growled.

“I mean, if it makes you feel any better, I think they really are just getting lunch,” Antonio said with a small smile.

“Y’know, shockingly, that doesn’t make me feel better at all actually,” Lovino said, shooting Antonio a glare.

“Okay, noted.”

The four were silent for a few moments.

“We should really go, huh,” Antonio said finally.

“Oh, yeah,” Gilbert forced a laugh. “I’ll um… I’ll text you?” he said with a small smile. Feliciano nodded and glanced at Lovino before grabbing Gilbert’s hand. His stomach knotted as he pulled him closer. Feliciano sat up, Gilbert leaned down, hands on the plastic handle of the bed.

And then they kissed.

It was so familiar, but all new, and Gilbert found himself leaning into it. They’d kissed before _of course_ , but it had never felt _so real._ Feliciano’s lips were soft against his, and his hand went to his cheek, fingertips brushing along his cheekbone.

Kissing a guy was a lot like kissing a girl, but as Gilbert pulled away and let out a soft breath, he realized he liked it _better._ He and Feliciano made eye contact, and Gil noted how _huge_ Feliciano’s pupils had gotten.

“Text me,” Feliciano said quietly, running his thumb over Gilbert’s cheekbone gently, affectionately. Gilbert nodded as he pulled away, standing up straight.

“Okay,” he said with a nod, feeling as though he was in a daze as he turned around. Lovino looked furious, and Antonio stared at him wide-eyed, jaw dropped. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his friend’s arm and pulling him out of the room.

“What was that?!” Antonio practically squawked after they shut the door.

“I don't… I-I guess I don't really know,” he said and grinned.

“Oh, you are _fucked,_ ” Antonio laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is... really boring ahahaaa.. sorry it took a year and a day! Next chapter will be more interesting, I swear u___u

Dreaming was a beautiful thing. Your subconscious’ ability to wander to the most fantastical parts of your mind was truly amazing to Gilbert. He almost never had nightmares, and his dreams were usually quite pleasant. 

Lately though, his subconscious had been betraying him. 

He swore as he sat up in bed, gripping his chest. He grabbed at his comforter and pulled it up, looking beneath it. 

_ Christ.  _

He hadn’t had a wet dream since  _ high school.  _

Gilbert covered his head with both hands as he bowed, filled with frustration and sleepiness. Brown eyes looking up through lashes flashed through his mind. Threading his fingers through that unruly hair and  _ pulling.  _ Gilbert stood abruptly, grimacing at the cold feeling in his pants. 

Pants. 

They  _ weren’t  _ his pants. 

He wanted to  _ scream.  _ There was absolutely no way he was returning these clothes now. He legally had to burn them. 

He stripped his sheets, and his clothes, and tossed the bundle of fabric into his laundry bin. Then he showered, putting it on the coldest it would go the second his mind began to wander back to kissing and  _ mouths _ . The shower went quick, and he stepped out feeling severely unhorny.

He got dressed, made breakfast, and sat at the small table he’d set up near his window to eat. His apartment was only on the second story, so it gave him the perfect view down to the sidewalk. He inhaled his coffee when he saw none other than  _ the  _ brunette he’d been avoiding thinking about all morning. He coughed, setting the mug down in a hurry as Feliciano climbed the front steps to the building, standing up abruptly. His buzzer went off, the dull chirp of it loud in the quiet apartment. Gilbert’s heart  _ pounded _ in his ears as he stood there. The buzzer came again, and he finally remembered himself, forcing his legs forward until he stood in front of the small intercom box. 

Did he ask who it was? Did he say hello? Good morning? He could just buzz him in, but then he’d probably wonder why he wouldn’t ask who it was. Gilbert didn’t want him to think he was, like, a  _ stalker  _ or something. The buzz came again, and he pressed the speak button. 

“Uh… who is it?” he said, frowning at how stupid he sounded. 

“Feliciano! I brought your wallet… and… a surprise.” 

A  _ surprise.  _ Gilbert could hear the smile in his voice, and his stomach tied up into knots. What could  _ that mean?  _

“O-okay,” he said with an absent nod. “Come on up.” He buzzed Feliciano in, and then turned around. Thank god his apartment wasn’t too terribly messy. Gilbert didn’t have a lot of furniture, but everything he did have was organized nicely. The only complaints anyone really had was that all of it was monochrome. There was a knock at the door, and Gilbert straightened, drawing in a breath. He turned around and opened the door, his face breaking into an involuntary grin when he saw Feli. 

“Good morning,” he said. Feliciano mirrored his grin, that dimple acting as the cherry on top. 

“Morning,” Feli replied. They stared at each other for a few more seconds. 

“Oh! Come in,” Gilbert said with a huff of a laugh, stepping out of the way. Feliciano did so, and glanced around. He was definitely the brightest thing in Gilbert’s he whole home. Feliciano wore a bright blue coat and a yellow shirt beneath it. His pants were a softer blue, but were streaked all over with paint. They cut at the shin, and he wore red shoes to finish the outfit. 

Gilbert wore a black long sleeve and grey joggers. 

“How are you feeling?” Gilbert asked awkwardly. 

“Better! A lot better. I’m only a little red,” he said, and leaned closer. “See,” he murmured, gesturing. Gilbert couldn’t make his eyes land on anything, gaze bouncing from Feliciano’s eyes to his lips to that dimple to his beauty mark between the corner of his eye and the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah,” Gilbert practically sighed. Feliciano pulled away, and Gilbert could breathe normally again. Feliciano held a paper shopping bag out to him, and Gilbert gasped exaggeratedly. 

“For me?” he hummed as he took the bag. Feliciano rolled his eyes, but still smiled as Gilbert looked inside. It was his jacket, the smooth deep blue of it glimmering in the light. “Look at that! You aren’t keeping my clothes hostage anymore!”

“Surprise!” This surprise was a lot more innocent than what he was, for some reason, expecting. “I figured you were serious. What with the trying to kill me and all.” Gilbert opened his mouth to rebut, but was cut off. “Speaking of, while I’m here, could I get  _ my  _ clothes back?”

Gilbert’s stomach dropped into the heels of his feet. 

“No,” he said, and Feliciano raised a brow, letting out a small laugh. 

“What?”

“I mean… I’d much rather wash them first. Y’know… they’re full of anxiety sweat from yesterday.”

“Aww, you were anxious for me?” Feliciano teased, and Gilbert rolled his eyes. 

“I’m anxious about everything, all the time. You aren’t special,” he teased, and Feliciano laughed. They were quiet for a few moments, just looking at each other expectantly.

“Was there… something else?” he asked, raising a brow. 

“Oh…” Feliciano looked embarrassed then, glancing away. “Yeah… I was… well, Lovino… wants us all to have dinner.”

“ _ What? _ ” Gilbert asked with a laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, he… well, you’re my boyfriend, Gil,” he said with a sheepish shrug. Gilbert’s felt his face flush. 

“I’m not,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m officially breaking up with you, Feliciano. I’m not attracted to men with pepper allergies,” he said with a smirk. 

“But you are attracted to men?” Feliciano asked, putting on a smirk of his own. 

“Absolutely not,” he replied, though a tiny voice in the back of his head asked him if he was sure about that. 

“Hm,” Feliciano said. Gilbert sighed, shaking his head. 

“You don’t have anything on me anymore, Feli. I do not want to go to dinner with your brother,” he said.

“It’d be with Grandpa too,” he added, and Gilbert grimaced. 

“Because that makes it better?”

“Wel,  _ no _ , I guess not,” Feliciano sighed. “ _ Please _ , Gil. Just do me a favor, I’m your friend.”

“We’re friends?”

“We aren’t?” Feli asked, and frowned a bit. 

“I-I mean, I guess that’s what you’d call us, yeah,” Gilbert said with a nod. “I just… haven’t thought about it.”

“Well, I’m saying we are. I like you and I think you’re funny and I want to be your friend,” Feliciano said. “Just… please. I haven’t had a boyfriend in a while and Grandpa asks about it all the time and it’s really annoying. Just one dinner.”

“The gallery was ‘just a couple drinks.’ Is this ‘one dinner’ some kind of trap too?” Gilbert asked, crossing his arms. Feliciano blushed, and frowned. 

“That was shitty on my part and I’m sorry. This will be different. It’s just dinner.”

Gilbert sighed, and Feliciano looked up at him with those sad brown eyes. Gilbert had known it was stupid to even try to argue in the first place. 

“Fine,” he sighed, shrugging lightly. 

“Great!” Feliciano beamed, brightening immediately. “We need to firm up some details though. I don't want to look stupid.” 

“I thought we had a pretty consistent story going at the gallery,” Gilbert said. 

“I can’t tell the people you work with that we met through them!” Feliciano huffed, and began taking off his jacket. He hung it on a hook beside the door and Gilbert watched as he walked right past him and into the kitchen. “How did we meet?” he asked, as Gilbert followed. 

“You kissed me at a club and dragged me home.”

“There was  _ no _ dragging, my friend,” Feliciano smirked. 

“How would you know? You were drunk,” Gilbert hummed smugly. 

“Right,” Feliciano sighed. “We can’t tell them that.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, both thinking. Feliciano looked around his kitchen, eyes landing on Gilbert’s breakfast. 

“Can I have this?” he asked, pointing to the coffee. Gilbert shrugged. 

“Go for it,” he sighed as he hopped up onto his kitchen counter. Feliciano took the mug in his hands and sipped it, as he began pacing. 

“You wanted to buy something from me,” he suggested. 

“Do I look like I buy art?” Gilbert asked. His walls were bare. 

“Right,” Feli sighed. 

“You… got work done by Antonio. He came over and fixed your sink or something,” Gilbert said with a shrug. 

“Hm…” Feliciano frowned a bit. 

“What?” 

“Well, Lovino and Antonio are… actually talking? Or texting or whatever. They exchanged numbers yesterday, I guess. That’s how I got your address,” Feliciano explained.

“Huh,” Gilbert said thoughtfully. “I would've never pegged Toni as a masochist.”

“Oh, shut up, he’s not that bad!” Feliciano huffed, shoving Gilbert’s shoulder lightly. 

“Maybe not to you.”

“I’m his brother, Gil. His  _ twin  _ brother.”

“Fair point,” Gilbert sighed. “Why don’t we just say we met at the club? We didn’t go home together, we just had some drinks and got each other’s numbers and then went on a few dates.”

“That could work,” Feliciano said after a few moments. He stared at Gilbert for a few moments, leaned against the counter. “One thing that’s definitely a giveaway is how much you tense up whenever we touch.”

“I do not—“ and then Feliciano stepped between his legs, hooking his hands behind his neck and pushing his fingertips into his hair. Gilbert sat stiff straight against the wall behind him, face burning as he looked down at Feliciano, who looked more calm than Gil had ever seen him. He was trying hard to relax, but  _ boy _ was it hard to think when Feliciano’s nails kept brushing against his scalp, when they were so close he could feel the other’s breath, when  _ Feliciano was between his legs.  _

“You do, and there’s no reason to be. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said with a warm smile.  _ Hurting _ him was never the worry. His hands went to Gilbert’s shoulders putting a gentle pressure on them to try to get him to lower them, and he breathed out slowly as he relaxed. “You get this caught in the headlights look in your eyes whenever I get even remotely close to you.”

“I-I…” What even was there to say? How could Gilbert possibly explain that? “I’m a germaphobe,” he breathed, and Feliciano laughed. Gilbert watched as his face creased with the smile, then dimple caved into his cheek, his eyes squeezed shut. Gilbert could feel the hot flush that travelled across his face, giving him goosebumps as it spread down his neck. 

“You look really good when you blush,” Feliciano said quietly, and Gilbert wanted to crawl into a ball. 

“Thanks,” he said almost breathlessly. Felciano nodded as he pulled away, leaning against the counter beside him. 

“Yeah. So… we met at the bar and decided to go on a date. You’re still weird about touching and we don’t really know anything about each other,” he listed off. Gilbert nodded. “So… tell me about yourself, Gil.”

“Uh…” Gilbert puffed out his cheeks as he looked at the ceiling. “I have a younger brother?”

“Tell me about him.”

“His name is Ludwig. He’s going to school out of state to be a physical trainer. He’s… odd, I guess? Most people don’t like him very much because he’s very serious, but…” Gilbert shrugged. “that’s just the way he is, I guess. We call every weekend.” 

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Feliciano teased and Gilbert rolled his eyes. 

“Your turn.”

“Who said we were taking turns!”

“I am. Your turn.”

“Um… Lovino is my twin… we butt heads a lot,” Feliciano laughed. “But, we really love each other, y’know? Grandpa didn’t really support me becoming an artist, but Lovi always did. When we were kids, I thought he was so cool, because he’s always been so good at cooking. He’s always been Grandpa’s baby,” Feli sighed. “Your turn.”

“...Ludwig and I used to make sausage together when we were in high school,” he said, and Feliciano laughed. 

“ _ Christ,  _ I knew you were German, but  _ damn, _ ” Felciano said with a grin. 

“Your name is Feliciano and your grandfather owns an Italian restaurant,” Gil said with a smirk. 

“Shut up.”

“Your turn.”

“I really like cats,” Feliciano hummed. 

“I already knew that, Feli,” Gilbert complained. 

“This is hard!” he whined, frowning. 

“That sucks,” Gilbert shrugged. “You’re the one who suggested it,” he hummed. 

“Fine,” Feliciano grumbled, and was silent for a few minutes as he thought. “I’m really ticklish,” he said. Gilbert snorted. “What?”

“Nothing, that’s just… on point,” he said. Felciano rolled his eyes 

“Your turn.” 

They continued like that for about an hour, trading personal facts until they’d really ran out. Gilbert didn’t even know he knew that much about himself. At some point, Feliciano had slipped his hand into Gil’s—or maybe Gil had taken his—, and they stayed like that, fingers all tangled together. Feliciano’s hands were so warm compared to Gilbert’s. 

“So… when’s dinner?” Gilbert asked, looking over at the other. Feliciano shrugged. 

“Probably Wednesday night. Grandpa usually closes the restaurant on Wednesday,” he sighed. 

“I know, babe, I work there,” Gilbert said with a small laugh. Feliciano’s face turned pink, and when he realized what he’d said, Gilbert’s face ran crimson. “Uh.”

“You think I’m your babe?” Feliciano asked, his voice soft and sweet.

“N-no, it was just.. I was just—“

“I can be your babe if you want, Gil,” Feliciano hummed as their eyes locked. Gilbert swallowed hard, and let out a nervous laugh. 

“That could be good. More convincing a-and all that,” he muttered. 

“Yeah,” the brunette hummed after a moment. “What should I call you?”

“I don’t know,” Gilbert said with a noncommittal shrug. “No one I’ve dated has ever called me anything.”

“Hmm…” Feliciano hummed. He suddenly snapped, face brightening. “ _ Polpetto!” _ he said with such excitement that Gilbert had to smile. 

“What does that mean?”

“Meatball,” Feli said sweetly, expression entirely soft as they locked eyes. Gilbert couldn’t keep his brows from furrowing. 

“Meatball?” he asked, and Feliciano nodded. “Don’t call me that, that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird! Meatball is cute! I like it so I’m going to call you it.”

“Fine. Then I’ll call you…” Gilbert pursed his lips, rifling through nicknames and silly words he hardly remembered from childhood. “ _ schnuckleschneke _ ,” he hummed smugly. 

“You didn’t tell me you spoke another language!” Feliciano huffed. “What does that mean?”

“I only know a few German words. Ludwig is a lot more fluent than me,” Gil said sheepishly. “And, uh… it means like… nibble snail? Like a snail you would want to nibble?”

“What the  _ fuck?” _

“I don’t know, that’s what it means!” Gilbert huffed as Feliciano burst out laughing. Gilbert couldn’t even be mad, because Feliciano looked so… 

_ Beautiful.  _ Feliciano was beautiful. The whole apartment had a whole different feel just from him being there. Gilbert had never felt so relaxed and they were  _ holding hands.  _ Feliciano was just so… contrary to everything Gilbert knew, and it was refreshing. 

“That’s actually really cute,” Feli finally sighed, still chuckling quietly. “I’ll be your nibble snail any day.”

Gilbert wouldn’t want it any other way. 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took so long yikes... please take these disastrous fools as an apology u__u

Wednesday came too quickly. Francis loaned Gilbert some clothes, Antonio had given him some unhelpful advice, and he was as prepared as he was going to be, but Wednesday  _ still _ came too fast. 

Gilbert had initially assumed they were going to have dinner at the restaurant because it would be closed for the night, and the staff could stick around and make them something nice. Feliciano had laughed when he asked about it, saying that they’d be eating at his grandfather’s home, of course. 

He stood on the front steps of the two-story townhouse, feeling stiff and uncomfortable in his cardigan and tight fitting slacks, holding the neck of the wine bottle he’d purchased so tightly he was afraid he might crush it. 

This was a bad idea. 

He knocked on the front door and fidgeted as his stomach turned with anxiety. Lovino was surely going to kill him. He wasn’t sure about their grandfather either. Feli insisted Gilbert call him Roma, but there was something… oddly unprofessional about that, he felt. 

The door in front of him open, and he pulled his face into a grin as he saw Lovino standing there. Lovino scowled. 

“Hello,” Gilbert said stiffly. 

“Yeah. Come in,” he sighed, turning away. Gilbert stepped inside after a second, closing the door behind him. 

The mat beside the door was littered with shoes, and he stared down at his own for a few moments. Should he take his off? Would it be weird to only be in socks when he met Roma again? Should he ask? If he just did it, it might look weird, but if he didn’t, it might be disrespectful. 

“What are you doing?” Gilbert looked up to see Feliciano standing at the foot of the stairs. Gilbert hadn’t even heard him come down. 

“I was just… uh, should I… take my shoes—“ 

“You can leave your shoes on,” he said, and Gilbert nodded. 

“Okay,” he said with a nod, and suddenly remembered the wine. “Oh, here,” he said, holding out the bottle. Feliciano brightened and took it. 

“This is grandpa’s favorite! How did you know?” 

Gilbert thought back to Francis coyly handing him the bottle when he’d loaned him the clothes. He’d smirked like a cat observing a canary. 

“It was a guess,” he said with a shrug. 

“You look nice,” Feliciano said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He glanced down at the dark blue cardigan over his gray long sleeve and shrugged lightly. 

“Thanks. I feel like an idiot,” he said and Feliciano laughed. 

“Well, I think you look nice,” he hummed, and Gilbert stiffened when his fingertips brushed against his neck as he pulled his hand away. Feliciano wore a soft pink sweater and dark slacks. It was odd seeing him in such a simple outfit, but he still pulled it off exceptionally. 

“You look nice too,” he said and Feliciano laughed off the compliment. He took Gilbert’s hand and led him through the hallway beside the stairs. Photos littered the walls, and Gilbert glanced at them as they passed. Feliciano and Lovino grew with each photo, and then they turned into a small dining room. 

Dinner smelled  _ amazing.  _ It smelled like the kitchen at  _ Capitale _ , without all the stress. Gilbert breathed in deeply, relishing in the savory spiced smell. He wondered what they were having. Italian food tended to all blend together scent wise after a while, especially if it’s been cooking fora while. 

“Gilbert brought wine,” Feliciano announced cheerfully. Lovino sat at the table and scowled at them. 

“I bet it’s cheap and it sucks,” Lovino growled. 

“You mean like your shoes?” Feliciano replied with a warm smile as he set the wine on the table. Lovino opened his mouth to retort, but apparently couldn’t come up with anything, as he shut it and put on a more extreme pout. Feliciano turned back to him with a bright smile, and Gilbert immediately forgot Lovino entirely. 

The table was set with a modest spread of sliced bread, an olive oil and vinaigrette for dipping, sliced cheese, grapes, some sort of crackers and what looked like a pate. It all looked really good, but Gilbert was far too nervous to even think about snacking. 

It was astonishing how relaxed Feliciano seemed. They’d been fretting over details since they initially came up with this plan, making Gilbert more and more anxious for the dinner, and Feliciano didn’t seem affected at all. 

Roma walked into the room holding a basket of rolls, and Gilbert put on a smile. 

“Hi,” he said, and held out a hand, and was surprised when the man took it, giving it a firm shake. 

“You have cold hands,” he said, and Gilbert smiled awkwardly as he pulled his hand away. “But a good handshake,” he remarked as he put the basket on the table, and for some reason, Gilbert felt oddly validated. 

“Gilbert brought wine,” Feliciano said again, gesturing to it. Roma smiled a bit as he looked at the bottle of red wine, and picked it up by the neck, turning it over in his hands a few times. 

“I have not had this in… forever. I did not know he was still making it,” he said, looking up at Gilbert. 

“What?”

“It is Fran’s, no?” 

“Oh. I guess it is,” Gilbert said with a sheepish smile. He had no idea Francis had ever made wine. 

“I will go open this. Dinner is almost ready,” Roma said, and smiled genuinely, the signature Vargas dimple making its appearance. He left the room, and Feliciano turned to him excitedly, patting his arm gently. 

“He likes you,” he said with a grin, and Gilbert glanced away face flushing. 

“I don't know about that…”

“Well, I do,” Feli said and pinched his arm. “Sit down and stop worrying.”

And so he did. He didn’t do an amazing job at the second part, but Feliciano took his hand and he couldn’t think of much else other than the way his thumb moved over the back of his hand. 

“God, you guys are gross,” Lovino growled from across the table. 

“How’s it going with Antonio?” Feliciano asked, and Gilbert watched as Lovino’s face went from a normal shade to a hot crimson in seconds. 

“That’s none of your business, bastard,” he growled, and Feliciano smiled. 

“I really think it is. You are my only brother, and Antonio is Gilbert’s best friend. You’ve been texting him nonstop since you got his number, right?”

“I am going to skin you, Feliciano. I’m going to wear your face like a mask,” he glowered, and Gilbert couldn’t suppress a small smile. This banter was easy and comforting, even if Lovino was severely pissed off. Feliciano didn’t seem to mind, in fact, it was like he took joy in annoying his brother. 

“My skin would be an improvement to what you normally wear, Lovi,” he said and Lovino stood abruptly. 

“I’m going to help nonno like a good grandson,” he grunted before leaving the room. Feliciano turned to him with a small smile. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, leaning a little closer. Gilbert shrugged. 

“Fine. Anxious. Your grandpa is intimidating. Lovino is also, to a lesser extent.” Feliciano laughed when he said that. 

“You’re doing good. And, even if you weren’t, they’ll like whoever I like,” he said with a small shrug. 

“You like me?” Gilbert asked sarcastically, putting on a sweet tone and a doting expression. Feliciano rolled his eyes and pushed his face away. 

“Not when you do that with your face,” he teased, laughing a bit. Gilbert smiled, feeling much more relaxed now that they were alone. 

They were quiet for a moment, the beat comparable to the one they shared before they kissed at the hospital. Their eyes met, and Gilbert’s chest filled up with a thick air of excitement and anticipation and an urge, a want, a  _ need,  _ and  _ he  _ was the one to lean in. 

Feliciano’s lips were so soft, and they fit together so well that it was hard to believe they weren’t made to do this. Maybe they were, Gilbert thought as he brought a hand to Feli’s cheek, fingertips brushing against his skin. Feliciano’s hand went to his shoulder as he leaned closer, pressing into the kiss more insistently, making Gilbert furrow his eyebrows slightly. This was drawing on too long, some part of Gilbert’s brain told him, too long to be just for show, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He wanted this. He wanted Feliciano, the want burning in his stomach so hot that he moved his hand from Feli’s cheek to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, so close that there shouldn’t have been a seam between them anymore, the fact that there was making the center of Gilbert’s chest  _ ache.  _

Feliciano made a little noise, so quiet Gilbert was sure he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been able to  _ feel it _ , the vibrations moving from Feli’s throat and to his mouth, translating onto Gilbert’s. 

There was the sound of a throat clearing, and Feliciano pulled away in a hurry, so fast that Gilbert’s hand still held his neck. Feliciano’s face burned red, and Gilbert wasn’t grounded enough to understand why. He glanced up to see Roma and Lovino standing in the doorway, Roma looking unimpressed and Lovino looking furious.  _ Then _ he understood, and pulled his hands away, looking down at his empty plate silently as his face flushed with color. 

“Dinner is ready unless you would both rather just go upstairs instead,” Roma said and set the wine glasses down. 

“Sorry,” Feliciano said quietly, but honestly didn’t sound it. He slipped his hand into Gilbert’s again, and looked over at him with… 

With  _ what?  _ What was that look, and why did it make Gilbert so warm it hurt? 

“Hm,” Roma hummed and left again, leaving Lovino in the room with them. He held the now open wine and glowered at them. It was a wonder how often Lovino looked furious towards Gilbert, especially lately. 

“I cannot believe—“

“You’re only mad because you’re jealous,” Feliciano hummed. 

“I’m mad because it’s gross!” Lovino blanched. 

“Pour the wine, Lovino!” Roma called from the kitchen, and he tensed, scowling as he obeyed, setting down the bottle with a little too much force. “And bring your plates,” he added belatedly, and Feliciano stood, grabbing his plate. Gilbert stood as well, grabbing his plate and following Feli into the spacious kitchen. Drying herbs hung from the ceiling and cupboards. The counters and island were pristine, which wasn’t especially surprising considering how clean they were required to keep  _ Capitale.  _

On the stove was a large Dutch oven pot, the lid sitting on the counter beside it. Roma left the room, leaving them to serve themselves. Inside the pot was amazing looking—and smelling—osso bucco. There was another pan behind it with perfectly prepared risotto. It wasn’t a surprise that the food looked amazing. They served this exact dish at  _ Capitale _ , and Gilbert had gotten quite adept at preparing it himself. 

The two dished up, Feliciano practically leaning against him as he scooped risotto onto his plate. 

“You are going to push me over,” Gilbert teased with a laugh. 

“That’s okay, I’ll just go down with you,” he said with a shrug. Gilbert snorted, shaking his head, and stood to the side as Feliciano finished up. Roma and Lovino joined them again, now holding their own plates. Shortly they were all seated at the table, and Gilbert sat politely as everyone got situated. 

“ _ Buòn appetito,” _ Roma hummed, and then Lovino and Feliciano began to move, the room filling with the clink of silverware and comfortable silence. Gilbert belatedly began to eat as well, and it was unsurprisingly delicious. The osso bucco was cooked perfectly, the meat falling off the bone just as it was supposed to, and the risotto was just right. 

“So, how did you meet my Feliciano?” Roma asked as he picked up his wine glass. 

“Oh,” Gilbert murmured as he swallowed. “We met at a club and just… really hit it off.”

“A club?” Roma asked, furrowing his brows as he looked from Gilbert to Felciano. 

“I was just having a drink after a gallery event, nonno,” Feliciano explained with a laugh. Lovino ate in silence, glowering at them from across the table. 

“And why were you there?” Roma asked Gilbert. 

“My friends and I were out. They’re very… social,” he said with a small laugh. Roma’s exterior didn’t waver. 

“I see.”

There was an odd silence that followed, and Feliciano took a sip of wine. 

“Uh, yeah, so, he was just… sitting alone at the bar and I decided to join him because he looked lonely, and,” he shrugged. “like he said, we just really hit it off.”

“And where do you intend on taking this relationship?” Roma asked. 

“Uh,” Gilbert uttered intelligently. 

“Well, Gil just kind of… got out of a rather serious relationship, so we’re taking things slow,” Feliciano said with a nod. That was completely made up. Gilbert glanced at him, furrowing his brows slightly. Feliciano made a minute shrugging motion before filling his mouth with risotto. 

“And y’know, Feliciano is kind of  _ afraid  _ to take things to another level anyways. He is quite busy with his art and all,” Gilbert said with a light shrug. Feliciano looked over at him, and it was his turn to glare so Gilbert shrugged. 

“I would  _ like to _ move forward, but Gilbert has this… weird medical  _ thing _ , where his skin down there just—“

“ _ Feliciano _ ,” Gilbert said severely, looking over at him. The brunette gave him a sunny smile. 

“It’s okay,  _ polpetto,  _ they’re family.”

“Right, because you’d want your family to know about that…  _ tattoo  _ you have on your a—“

“Okay,” Roma said, and they both looked up to see him glaring at the two. Lovino smirked like a lunatic. “Can we just have dinner, please?”

“Yes. Sorry, nonno. I’ll try to control him,” Feliciano said with a smile. Gilbert glared at him. 

“Yes. Speaking of, did you know that Feli  _ still  _ doesn’t know how to drive?” Gilbert hummed, plastering on a pleasant smile. Telling an untrue secret was bad, but telling a true one… that had to be worse, and Gilbert knew it. 

“We weren’t speaking about that,” Roma said. Gilbert lifted his wine glass to his lips before he answered. 

“No, we kind of were, it’s a thing about control and he only, y’know, lied about—“ 

“Gilbert has lied about his dick size since he first measured,” Feliciano hummed, making Lovino snort on his wine, coughing it up as he set the glass down. True secrets were definitely worse. 

“Feliciano still hasn’t had a relationship that’s lasted longer than 6 months.”

“Gilbert still hasn’t either,” Feliciano said smugly, and Gilbert narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Feliciano can’t lift more than twenty pounds,” Gilbert hummed plainly.

“Gilbert doesn’t have actively working sweat glands!” 

“Feliciano has a tattoo he’s never told anyone about on his—“

“Gilbert  _ still  _ has a physical porn st—“

“Feliciano, go to your room,” Roma said stiffly. They both straightened and looked across the table at the man. 

“What?” Feli asked, laughing nervously. “I didn’t even—“

“ _ Now.” _

Feliciano frowned but set down his utensils. He grabbed his wine glass and stood, leaving the room silently. Lovino coughed, pressing his lips into a thin line to keep from smiling. 

“You too, Lovino,” Roma said and Lovino opened his mouth to argue, but opted for closing it instead. He stood and left, leaving only Roma and Gilbert at the table. This had to be the worst possible outcome of this scenario. 

“So,” Roma hummed, taking a sip of his wine and setting it down again. “What is the tattoo of?”

“A piece of pizza,” Gilbert said after a few seconds. Roma laughed, the sound catching Gilbert off guard. It was warm and charming, and Gilbert smiled nervously. 

“I am not sure what I was expecting,” he admitted, and Gilbert nodded. 

“That’s how I felt when he told me.” 

Roma was quiet for another few moments. 

“You like him, don’t you?” Roma asked. The question caught him off guard again. Gilbert furrowed his brows a bit. 

“Um… yeah, of course. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Gilbert,” Roma said with a small laugh. “You cannot fool someone like me, especially not with a ruse that has been so badly executed,” he said. Gilbert’s stomach twisted, and he frowned a little. 

“I… I don't know, I guess,” Gilbert said, fingering the base of his wine glass. 

“I think you do,” Roma said, and Gilbert glanced away. 

“Yeah, I don't know,” he muttered passively. 

“Only those in love ruin dinners the way you two did,” Roma said, and Gilbert laughed a little. 

“I’m really sorry.”

“Do not worry about it. I expected Lovino to blow up at some point, to be honest.” 

They were quiet for another few moments. 

“He’s probably mad, right?” Gilbert asked. Roma nodded. 

“Come,” Roma said as he stood, and Gilbert hurried to follow as he went into the next room. Roma uncovered a small cake dish, to reveal a perfect chocolate amaretti cake. “Take him some of this, and he’ll forgive you for sure.”

That was has how Gilbert ended up in front of Feliciano's closed childhood bedroom door holding a small plate of cake and a glass of milk. He knocked on the door gently, and after a moment, it opened. Feli looked unimpressed but took the plate and glass when Gilbert held them out to him. He walked away with them, leaving the door open. 

The room was littered with posters and glow in the dark stars. There were canvases everywhere, a few stacked up in one corner, a few leaned against each other, one on a large easel. They weren’t as good as his current works, but they held an undeniable charm. Feliciano sat down on his twin bed and didn’t look at Gilbert as he began eating. 

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert said quietly. 

“I’m not,” Feliciano sighed.

“That’s fair.” 

Gilbert looked around for somewhere to sit and spotted a beanbag chair in one corner of the room. He grabbed it and pulled it over to in front of the bed. He sat down and Feliciano snorted when he looked up at him. 

“You look so dumb,” he said quietly. Gilbert’s legs were too long to sit this low to the ground, and they looked odd and angular. 

“You always look dumb,” Gilbert retorted, and Feliciano laughed, shaking his head as he did. 

“I can’t believe you made out with me in front of my family and then told them all my secrets,” Feliciano said, setting the half-eaten cake to the side. 

“Well, now they know I don’t have actively working sweat glands, so we’re  _ definitely  _ even,” Gilbert hummed sarcastically. 

“Yeah, you didn’t really tell me anything embarrassing enough to expose,” Feliciano complained. 

“Sorry, boss, I’ll do better next time,” he said with a grin. 

“There is  _ not  _ going to be a next time.” 

“Why not? It was fun,” he hummed, and Feliciano rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Feliciano muttered, and stood up, grabbing his plate and cup. “Come on,” he sighed. Gilbert, with some effort, stood from his spot and grabbed the empty wine glass left on the end table. 

“Are you mad at me?” Gilbert asked as he followed the other and shut the light off. 

“No. I’m annoyed,” Feliciano said. “but I’ll get over it if you walk me home,” he hummed as he began to walk down the stairs. Gilbert smiled a little. 

“Deal.” 

Feliciano was eager to leave, and Roma didn’t object. He told him it was nice to meet him, and Gilbert could tell he meant it. Lovino didn’t come down to tell them goodbye, which Gilbert was thankful for it. They stepped out into the chilly night air, and Feliciano caught his hand, leading him down the front steps. 

Feliciano’s hands were so warm. The walk was blessedly short, as the night just got colder the more time they spent outside. They climbed the stairs to Feliciano’s front door in silence, but it was so comfortable. They stood close as Feliciano unlocked the door, and a part of Gilbert wanted to just slump over onto the brunette. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, and Gilbert remembered he was only walking him home. He pulled his hand away and smiled sheepishly. 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Feliciano hummed but hesitated. “Do you wanna come in?”

“Um. Yeah, sure,” Gilbert said with a nod, smiling warmly as he stepped inside. Feliciano shut the door but didn’t move further into the house. 

“Do you… can we… um… do you want to kiss?” 

A spike of nerves shot through Gilbert’s core, and goosebumps traveled over his skin. 

“For practice. Obviously. So, y’know, we can get better and it’s not so—“

Gilbert kissed him, stopping his sentence in its tracks. Feliciano was tense, but Gilbert could feel him relax as they kissed, and Gilbert wrapped his arms around Feli’s waist as they melted together. The brunette wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing into the kiss more insistently, and Gilbert felt himself push back. 

This was different. “Practice” was bullshit, and they both knew it. There wasn’t anyone around to see them. It was just him and Feliciano, Feliciano and him, them,  _ them, them,  _ and Gilbert made a whimper of a noise. The seams between them felt like miles, and Gilbert wanted to close that space, wanted to be as close as possible as soon as possible. 

Everything they did moved in tandem, like a well-oiled machine, like the perfect dish, everything they did complementing the other. Gilbert was done hesitating, done holding back, so Feliciano didn’t either. He was suddenly pressed back against the door and wasn’t complaining as their bodies pressed together. Feliciano’s nails brushed against Gil’s scalp, tangling in his hair, pulling gently, insistently, and he breathed out sharply. Feliciano’s hands still immediately, and he pulled away, leaving Gilbert wanting, lips still pursed against open air. 

“Are you okay?” Feliciano asked, and Gilbert furrowed his brows slightly as he opened his eyes. He let out a small scoff of a noise, confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. Are you  _ okay? _ ” 

Gilbert paused, frowning.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he said with a nod. 

“Great,” Feliciano breathed and the space between them is closed again. The confusion is immediately forgotten when Feliciano’s tongue moves across his bottom lip. 

Kissing a guy was  _ a lot  _ like kissing a girl, but somehow incomparable. Kissing  _ Feliciano  _ was different than anything Gilbert had ever done. 

Feliciano’s hands drifted down his chest, the warmth of them grounding even through his clothes. Gilbert opened his mouth, and Feli took the invitation. His mouth tasted distantly of wine and cake and something else, something that lit Gilbert’s veins on  _ fire _ , and he gripped at Feli’s sweater, wanting to pull it off to hurry this along. 

Apparently, Feliciano felt the same way as he pushed his hands under Gilbert’s cardigan, urging him to shrug it off, and of course, he obliged. He pushed off the surface of the door, letting him take it off. It fell to the floor, forgotten as Gilbert broke the kiss, instead burying his face in the crook of his neck, kissing the soft skin there and making Feliciano  _ mewl _ . 

“Fuck,” Feliciano huffed as Gilbert’s teeth brushed against his skin. His hands went to the bottom hem of Feliciano’s sweater as he kissed and bit marks into his skin, and pulled away to pull the sweater off. Feliciano raised his arms to cooperate and as soon as it was out of the way, they were back around Gilbert’s neck, and his lips were captured into a kiss again, this one messier, their lips not matching up quite right as he ran his hands down the brunette’s newly exposed skin. 

All of this felt dreamily familiar. He knew exactly what to do but only on instinct. It was perfect, their chemistry giving him no time to overthink and obsess over his next move. Feliciano made a small noise when Gilbert’s hand ran across his slacks, and he pulled away to grin as he squeezed the curve of his ass. 

Feliciano was  _ blushing.  _ Gilbert wasn’t aware a person’s skin could get as red as he was, and it was even more surprising to see the flush on Feli. Gilbert couldn’t help but smirk, and the brunette narrowed his eyes at him. 

“I’m gonna kiss that stupid grin off your face, you idiot,” Feliciano muttered, before doing just that, swallowing any laugh or protest that Gilbert might have had before he could get it out. He bunched his hands in the front of his shirt and pulled him forward as he stumbled back. They were forced to part as Feliciano grabbed his hand, pulling him further into the house, past the living room and the kitchen, and into the bedroom at the back of the apartment. 

They move so fast, Gilbert frustratedly pulling on the stupid far too complicated belt around his waist as Feliciano dealt with his shoes. Hands seized his, and he looked up to see Feli, a small smile on his face as he undid the buckle without fuss. He kissed Gilbert as he unbuttoned his slacks. Hands move under his pants, across his behind to push the slacks down. They linger, and Gilbert broke the kiss with a chuckle. 

“You have a really nice butt,” Feliciano said quietly and Gilbert rolled his eyes. Being complimented was… weird. Being looked at the way Feliciano looked at him was  _ weird.  _

“You have a really nice everything,” Gilbert huffed with a grin, and it was Feli’s turn to roll his eyes. He was pushed back onto the bed and fell with an  _ oof.  _

_ “ _ Articulate,” Feliciano teased. He was so… hot. Sexy. Gil had been in situations like this before, but he’d never been this prematurely worked up. His heart pounded in his chest as Feli undid his own slacks. The marks he’d already left on the brunette’s neck looked  _ beautiful _ , and he couldn’t wait to leave more. Gilbert snorted when he saw the hot pink briefs Feli wore, which earned him a sharp look as he climbed into his lap. 

“I’m gonna rock your world,” Gilbert hummed and he had no idea why he did. Feliciano laughed out loud. 

“You already have,” he said, and Gilbert felt as though everything inside of him had suddenly been replaced by honey, and it wasn’t an entirely bad feeling. 

  



	7. Chapter 7

Gilbert is sore when he wakes up. Odd muscles ache in his arms and thighs, and he turned on his side with a soft groan. When he does, he’s met with the sight of a back, the skin tan and smooth. 

_ Feliciano _ . 

Gilbert can’t hold himself back from reaching out, closing the space between them. He ran a hand over the smooth flat of his back, and the muscles tightened beneath his touch, probably due to how cold he was. He inched closer to the sleeping figure and sat up on his elbow as he looked down at him. 

Feliciano’s hair sprawled out across the pillow like an auburn halo. In the dim light from the window, Gilbert could see light freckles that danced their way across his skin. His lips were parted slightly, and he could see he was drooling. It made him smile because even that was perfect. 

Gilbert didn’t know what this meant. He didn’t want to know what this meant. His free hand traveled over the curve of Feli’s side, felt its way around his waist, and he laid down on the pillows with a sigh. 

“You okay?” a sleep heavy voice suddenly broke the silence. 

“Yeah,” he replied after a moment. Feliciano turned over to face him, a ghost of a smile pulling at his tired face. 

“Your hair looks crazy,” he murmured in that middle of the night voice. His lips barely moved as he spoke, but Gilbert could distinctly understand every word. Feliciano moved closer, and unearthed an arm from the covers to run fingers through Gilbert’s hair. He leaned into the gesture, a small smile coming to his face as he did. 

“You’re crazy,” Gilbert replied intelligently. 

“For you,” Feliciano said, and they both laughed, neither wanting to delve into the validity of that statement. 

~

They must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because Gilbert dreamed. He dreamed of simple, perfect things, and woke up feeling better from it. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes as sunlight streamed blindingly through the window. The bed was empty, and he stretched his legs out and leaned back as he yawned. 

“Good morning,” a voice called to him, and he looked up blearily to see Feli standing in the doorway. He was wearing Gilbert’s grey shirt from the night before, and it had been baggy enough on him that it hung off Feliciano. 

“Morning,” Gilbert murmured sleepily, leaning back on his hands. Feliciano drew closer, crawled across the bed and onto Gilbert’s legs. The kiss is short, sweet, and minty on Feli’s part. 

“I kept your toothbrush. You should probably… use it,” Feliciano said when they parted, and Gilbert snorted. He was far too tired, far too avoidant of whatever this meant to tear himself from the bed. He leaned forward and into Feliciano, who wrapped his arms around his neck. Feli laid back as Gilbert kept leaning, and then he laid on top of the brunette. He sighed, content with their new position. His heartbeat thumped away in his chest, and Gil was comforted by it as he closed his eyes. 

“Don’t you dare fall back asleep, then I’ll be trapped here,” Feliciano whined and squeezed Gilbert’s sides with his legs. He made a soft groaning noise, and opened his eyes, turning his head to look up a Feliciano. 

He was  _ beautiful _ . Gilbert was terrified of the thoughts he just kept having, but he couldn’t be bothered to care then. Feli looked as if he’d been awake for hours, like he’d showered and been up and about for at least half the day, but Gil was certain he hadn’t been awake long. He was sure he looked rough, especially so in comparison. 

“You okay?” Feli asked him again and again Gilbert didn’t know how to answer. He licked his bottom lip and bit down on it pensively before giving a small shrug. 

“I’m happy right now,” he said, and came to the conclusion then that he’d have to keep that present mentality indefinitely if he wanted to continue this, whatever…  _ this  _ was. 

“Okay,” Feliciano said simply. “Last night was really… really good,” he said after a while. Gilbert set his chin on Feli’s chest and smiled a tiny bit. 

“Yeah?” he murmured. 

“Yeah,” Feli replied with a doting grin. “Better than I could’ve dreamed,” he said, and smoothed the pad of his thumb over Gilbert’s eyebrow. The gesture was so sweet, and the words were so plainly genuine that Gilbert had to blush, and he glanced away sheepishly. 

“Me too,” he murmured, in a way that could only be described as  _ bashful.  _ Feli brought out a part of him that was so oddly tame. It was refreshing and shocking at the same time, and Gilbert still wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. 

Feliciano smiled, and it looked like the sun. Gilbert smiled, and felt like a grain of sand in Feli’s beams. 

“You don’t have work today, right?” Feliciano asked after a while and Gilbert sighed. 

“I do,” he muttered. 

“I could probably talk to Lovino.”

“I  _ do  _ still have a job, babe,” Gilbert said. He wasn’t sure why it was so easy to slip pet names into their conversations, especially when it had never been for Gilbert with anyone else. 

“Your job should just be looking sexy and kissing me because you’re very good at both and both would benefit me very much,” Feliciano hummed and Gilbert chuckled, nodding his head into the brunette’s chest. 

“Unfortunately I don’t get paid for either of those things.”

“Yes, it is a shame,” Feliciano agreed, and carded his fingers through his hair. 

They were quiet for a little while longer, and the sun beams began to drift across the room and onto the bed. Feliciano’s stomach growled loudly, and he sighed. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, and Gilbert laughed, because what an odd thing to apologize about. 

“I’ll make food,” he murmured, before pecking Feli’s neck and unearthing himself from the bed. He could feel his gaze on the center of his back, but ignored it as he approached the other’s dresser. He dug out some underwear, assuming it would be fine. He stepped into the boxers and pulled them up, only grimacing a little at the tacky, ostentatious print on them. Feliciano made a small pouty noise, Gilbert rolled his eyes, and then he left the room, going to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. 

He had hickies trailing down the curve of his neck and peppering down his torso. They looked…  _ nice _ against his pale skin, and he admired them even if it made him feel egotistical. 

He decided to make french toast. It was easy and quick and required enough of his attention that his mind didn’t wander. He leaned against the counter and sighed quietly, resting his forehead against the cabinet as he watched the butter bubble and hiss beneath the piece of bread. 

This was stupid. This was all so stupid. The French toast, the hickies, the sun beams, the smiles. It wouldn’t mean anything soon, and he knew that. He also knew he wanted to live in these moments forever, and things would never be the same as they were right now. 

He shoved the spatula beneath the toast and flipped it, grimacing at the golden surface that now smiled up at him. This was all so  _ stupid.  _

Gilbert made two slices of French toast by the time Feliciano joined him. They were kept warm in the toaster oven, and he told Feli he was free to start eating, but he didn’t. Instead he hovered around Gilbert, leaning against him whenever there was a lull in whatever he was doing. He wondered if the brunette also felt the impending sense of change. He didn’t ask, instead teasing him about being a leech, and shooing him away to the small kitchen table. 

“You look nice in my underwear,” Feli said, and he could hear the smirk in his voice. “But you’d look better in less.”

Gilbert resisted the urge to hike his shoulders up shyly. He wasn’t able to suppress the flush that bloomed beneath his skin, and stared down at the pan. 

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who turns crimson after only getting his ass grabbed,” he replied, and he could feel the other’s narrow eyed gaze on his back, and let himself smirk. He flipped the piece of toast and turned around to face the brunette again. 

To his surprise, Feliciano was red again, just as bright and encompassing as he’d been the night before. 

“Says you!” he huffed, and Gilbert laughed, and felt Feli’s glare on him as he did. He couldn’t help it. He felt like laughing. Everything about the past two days had been so oddly humorous, and he hadn’t really taken much time to laugh. 

“Knock it off!” he complained, but the words didn’t really mean anything, especially not together, especially not right now. Gilbert chuckled, his laughter finally dying down, and he turned to check on the toast. It still needed more time. He turned back to Feli, and they made eye contact for a few moments. The brunette held out his hand to him, and he took it. 

“I like you and I’m happy right now,” Feliciano said quietly. 

“Me too,” he murmured. He meant it, but he didn’t know how long he would. He could tell Feli felt the same way. 

Or maybe he didn’t, because he smiled up at Gilbert so sweetly, and held his hand loosely, with the trust that he wouldn’t pull away. 

So he didn’t. Not even when he had to transfer the French toast to a plate, and not even when he retrieved Feli’s from the toaster oven. He still didn’t as he sat down across from the other, and they held hands through breakfast. 

They finished and stacked their dishes out of the way, and then Feliciano took his other hand too. 

“I was serious about talking to Lovino,” he said quietly. 

“I was serious when I said I have a job,” Gilbert replied, and he smiled. 

“Okay,” he said, and then after a moment finished with, “I just don’t want you to have to go yet.”

If Gilbert was being honest, he didn’t either. He never wanted to leave. He wanted to forget his monochromatic apartment and step into the collage that was Feliciano’s and never leave again. 

But Gilbert wasn’t honest, and he especially wasn’t honest when it came to Feliciano, so he pulled his hands away. Feliciano frowned, but didn’t look surprised. 

“I have work,” he said, and they both knew what he said. 

“Okay,” Feliciano said with a small nod.

So then he was collecting his clothes while Feliciano did the dishes. Feli took off the shirt and he took it before returning to the bedroom to scrounge up the rest of his things. He pulled them on and glanced at himself in the mirror. His eyes lingered on the hickies, but he left the room without a second thought of them. He strolled out into the main room of the house, shoving his hands in his pockets as Feliciano joined him. 

They stared at each other for a few moments, before he stepped closer, took his hands, leaned up to capture him in a kiss. His hair tickled at his cheeks, and when they broke away, Gilbert smiled. Felciano smiled then too. 

“You’ll text me, right?” Feli asked, and Gilbert nodded, though they both doubted his answer. So, Feliciano kissed him again, and Gilbert leaned into it, so much he was suddenly pressing the brunette against the closed front door. He let out one of those small noises, and Gilbert snaked his hand around to grab the other’s ass. They broke apart at the same time, Feliciano blushing, Gilbert hardly smiling. 

“I really have to go,” he murmured. 

“I know you do,” Feliciano replied. They lingered for another moment more, before Gilbert finally pulled away, Feliciano finally stepped to the side, and Gilbert finally left the apartment. 

He would never see Feliciano Vargas again. 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Gilbert wouldn’t see Feliciano Vargas again. At least not in the same way. 

Fate’s cruel path just couldn’t seem to leave him alone, and took joy in meddling with his emotions. 

That was a pretty way of saying that it took them a few months to cross paths again.

In those few months, Gilbert didn’t do much. He went to work, called Ludwig on the weekends, occasionally went out with Francis and Antonio if they were convincing enough. Lovino was cold, but less so now that he and Antonio were officially together. Things were  _ normal _ , and  _ unfulfilling _ .

There was a time, however, that Gilbert did go home with someone. A hot brunette with glasses, one that was okay at kissing and more than good enough for Gilbert’s drunk mind. Everything they did together was rough and fast, and only as he was walking home did he realize he’d just left a man’s place.

He didn’t go out as much after that. 

In those few months, winter came. The snow was wet and heavy and cold, and there wasn’t even any wind to take it away. The cold sat stagnant, holding the city in tight grips as winter dragged by. It was on one of these cold,  _ cold _ nights Lovino and Antonio threw a party. 

Well, actually,  _ Francis  _ was throwing the party. He hosted it at his home, and organized the whole thing, but Lovino and Antonio (mostly Antonio) invited people, and hyped up the whole thing. Gilbert was being forced to go. Not that he minded much. Parties were fine as long as he could stand to the side and get filthy drunk. This party would be more than fine, as Francis’ house was massive, and there were more than enough bedrooms to wander off to and crash in when you felt drunk enough.

So, Gilbert was there. He stood off to the side, nursing his rum and coke, leaned against the wall beside him. He wasn’t sure what the party was for. There were a lot of people, and it was pleasantly loud, the murmur of talking and laughter dull on his ears. He knocked back the rest of his drink, and then regretted it as he realized he’d have to go off and find another one. 

He moved through the rooms as unobtrusively as possible. He moved out of the way for other people and kept his head down. Normally Gilbert loved parties. He loved getting drunk, he loved roaring with laughter, he loved connecting with people without connecting at all. It might’ve been superficial, but what wasn’t anymore? 

Now though… now, all he wanted was to disappear. He found the bar area, but couldn’t find the bartender, so he stepped behind the counter to make himself a drink. He popped open the can of coke and began pouring it into his glass as someone stumbled up to the counter. They laughed, and Gilbert didn’t bother looking up. 

“Can you make me a Sex On The Beach?” the voice asked, and Gilbert looked up immediately. His eyes widened as he saw who the voice belonged to. The flushed face of Feliciano Vargas grinned at him. “Hello, there,” he said, and Gilbert realized he was still pouring coke, and had overfilled his glass all over the counter. He grimaced and grabbed a rag. 

“Or maybe a Blowjob?” Feliciano pressed, and Gilbert realized he was  _ wasted.  _ That made him grimace more, and he frowned at the counter as he cleaned up his mess. 

“Obviously, I cannot ask you to make me anything virgin,” the brunette slurred, giving him a lazy smirk when they made eye contact. He had yellow paint on his jawline and bags under his eyes.

“How much have you had to drink?” he asked, and Feliciano laughed. The noise was hollow and forced. 

“What do you care?” he asked, and Gilbert hardened his jaw. He tossed down the rag and walked around the bar, grabbing Feli’s arm roughly and pulling him up from the stool he’d drunkly wilted into. 

“Oo,” he murmured. “My safe word is pineapple,” he stage whispered, and Gilbert rolled his eyes as he led him out of the main room. There were a few people sitting on the stairs, but Gilbert ignored them as he led Feliciano up them.

“Hey, wait,” he huffed, obviously having difficulty with them as he took them one at a time. Gilbert stood a step above him patiently. He was impatient with him for other reasons, and didn’t have the energy to add this to those reasons as well. 

They got to the top of the stairs without incident, and Gil took him to the room he normally frequented at Fran’s house. It was modest for Francis’ tastes, but perfect for Gilbert’s. 

He turned around as Feliciano pulled off his shirt. 

“Hey, woah,” Gilbert said, grabbing his arms gently to stop him. “What are you—“ Feliciano kissed him. They had to stop meeting like this. Vodka poorly masked by fruit, overconfident kisses, strange places. All of it sent dizzying feelings of deja vu through him. He pulled away in a hurry, but Feliciano grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close again, kissing the corner of his mouth and then his chin when he tried to correct himself.

“Feli,” Gilbert murmured. The brunette didn’t stop. His hands went to the hem of Gilbert’s shirt. “Feliciano,” Gilbert said firmly, grabbing the other’s hands. Tears brimmed his eyes when he looked up at Gilbert.

“It’s not fair,” he breathed, and Gilbert glanced away. “It’s not fair, Gil,” he said quieter. 

“You’re drunk, Feli,” Gilbert offered softly. Feliciano wretched his hands away as tears fell down his cheeks. 

“That doesn’t make it fair!” he shouted. “What the  _ fuck  _ is wrong with you?!” he sobbed the words, and they lost their meaning as they entered the air, because what they meant didn’t matter. He could’ve said anything, and Gilbert would’ve understood what he meant.

“You’re drunk,” he asserted again, and put a hand on Feliciano’s upper arm. He sobbed as they touched, obviously not happy about the arm length between them. Gilbert wasn’t either, but it wasn’t like he could remedy that. 

“ _ Why _ didn’t you text me?” 

“I don’t know,” Gilbert replied hollowly. He knew. Feli knew. Gilbert was scared. He’d been scared, and the thought of taking whatever they had further was his breaking point.

“Stop  _ lying  _ to me! Haven’t you—haven’t you done that enough?!” Feliciano shouted, and beat a fist against Gilbert’s chest. He grunted as he did it again, and again, and again, until he sobbed so hard he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Gilbert practically carried him to the bed, and sat down beside him after he’d set him down. Feliciano stared up at him through bloodshot eyes that still occasionally leaked tears. He sniffed, glaring at him as they made eye contact. 

“I hate you,” Feliciano said, and they both knew what he really said. Sometimes to get your point across, you had to say the exact opposite of what you meant.

“I know,” Gilbert replied. Feliciano turned over onto his side, away from Gilbert. 

Gilbert stayed in the room with Feli until he fell asleep, and then longer. He stared up at the ceiling and didn’t think of anything as he overthought. Feli drooled onto the sheets as the party died down downstairs. Soon, all that could be heard was the occasional laugh and Feliciano’s heavy breathing. The door opened suddenly and in stumbled Ned.

Ned was a weird guy. He just sort of… showed up whenever their group threw a party. They all liked him just fine, but no one could remember where he came from. Francis suspected he had some sort of connection to Antonio, but Toni denied it. 

“Hey, man,” he said with a grin, and Gilbert mirrored ihalf-heartedly. 

“Hey,” he replied. Ned glanced from him to Feli and stood up straighter.

“Oh, shit, are you like..” he trailed off, glancing at Feli. 

“What? No,” he said quickly. He wasn’t sure what Ned was thinking. “He’s just… a friend… who drank too much.”

“You don’t… sound very sure about that,” Ned said with a small laugh and moved further into the room. He sat down in the chair and scooted it closer to the bed, a small smile on his face.

Gilbert looked down at Feliciano, a small frown pulling at his lip.

“He doesn’t like me much right now,” Gilbert sighed.

“Why?”

“I kinda…” How could he explain this? “Um,” he sighed. “We had a  _ thing,  _ I guess and I ghosted him.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were into dudes,” Ned said pleasantly.

“I’m not,” Gilbert said firmly. He and Ned made eye contact for a tense second. 

“Then why’d you have a thing with him?” Ned asked. “I mean, you must be into at least  _ one  _ dude. At least a little,” Ned said with a half shrug. Gilbert grimaced.

“I know,” he sighed finally. “I just… I don’t… want to be gay?” 

“Then don’t be,” Ned said with a shrug. “Labels are stupid, anyway.”

Gilbert stared at him for a few moments. That was so simple it sounded like cheating. 

“He’s mad at me, though.”

“Then apologize,” Ned said. “Can’t live your life avoiding shit when the solutions are that simple.”

“Well—“

Ned’s phone went off. 

“Oh,” he muttered and glanced at the screen. He stood. “Sorry, I gotta go,” he paused before putting a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. “You got this, man.” 

And then he was gone. 

Gilbert frowned. He hated how good Ned’s advice was, so he went to sleep. 

~

He woke up to Feliciano vomiting. He groaned as he roused himself, and tripped over his sleep saturated body to the small attached bathroom. Feli sat miserably in front of the toilet, leaning against the bowl. He looked up at Gilbert and frowned. Gilbert didn’t say anything as he grabbed a small cup from the cabinet. He filled it with water and sat down on the floor with it, silently handing it over to Feliciano. 

“Why haven’t you left yet?” he murmured the words after he’d swallowed down half the glass. 

“I think I’ve done enough of that,” Gilbert replied just as quietly. They made eye contact for a few moments, and Gilbert watched his face sour, and when he lurched over the side of the bowl, Gil was there to push back his bangs and keep a hand on his back.

Watching someone you love barf their guts out in the most pitiful way possible had to be the most validating experience one could go through. Gilbert felt he loved Feliciano even  _ more _ as he groaned into his shoulder. He now leaned against Gilbert, as he so often did, and he didn’t even think to complain about the various fluids that were leaking from Feli’s face into the shoulder of his shirt. 

Gilbert would never see Feliciano Vargas the same way again. He was tired of facades. He was tired of hiding how he felt. The only person he was doing that for was himself, and he didn’t care enough to continue doing so. He cared about Feliciano, and he took the brunette’s hand loosely. Feli smiled minutely as he stared at the floor in front of them. 

“I’m never drinking again,” he whined pathetically, and Gilbert couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“But it’s so fun, isn’t it?” Gilbert spoke with a smile on his face, one that didn’t waver even when Feliciano shot a sharp glare at him. 

Because how couldn’t he smile? He’d missed Feliciano with everything in him. He felt like some part of him had finally been returned to him. So, he sat grinning on the floor of one of his best friends numerous bathrooms, tangled up with someone he shouldn’t love as he purged the last three months of silence they’d shared. 

He couldn’t have been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gil finally gets some useful advice! Sheesh..


	9. Chapter 9

“Feliciano!” Gilbert called from the kitchen. 

“What?” he replied from the living room. 

“You smell!” he said and grinned when he heard Feli laugh. 

He hadn’t left Feliciano’s place for three days. 

Well, mostly. The two had stepped out a few times for groceries or coffee or just to take a walk together, but for the most part, they’d spent the weekend in. 

Gilbert knew he’d have to go back to work eventually, but he was so content hanging out with Feliciano that work was the last thing on his mind. 

Feliciano.  _ Feliciano, Feliciano.  _ After that fateful party about a month prior, they started spending more time together. They talked a lot, and Gilbert was honest about most things. At least, he told Feli how he felt or didn’t feel, and he interpreted it however he wanted to. 

They were ‘exclusive,’ as Feliciano had described. Gilbert was focused on not labeling it, so he didn’t. Lovino has thought it was very funny that he was demoted from boyfriend to ‘exclusive partner’ when he’d found out, but Gilbert didn’t mind. 

“Will you just bring me my coffee?” Feli called and he smiled a little. 

He didn’t mind, because things were different now. Feliciano was different now. Gilbert was  _ different now.  _ No longer was Feli some enigmatic painter flashing his way under turquoise club lights. Gilbert was no longer a humble prep cook no one looked twice at. Now they were just Gilbert and Feliciano, which was so much more than any label or implication they’d had before. 

“Just a sec,” he said and retrieved two mugs from the cupboard. He opened the top of the coffee pot and scooped some grounds into it, shut it, and turned it on. The little machine began to gurgle its way through its cycle, and Gilbert sighed quietly. He watched arms wrap around his waist from behind and then felt Feliciano behind him. He put his chin on his shoulder and leaned his head against Gilbert’s. 

“I thought you wanted me to bring it to you,” Gilbert murmured. 

“I missed your stupid face too much,” Feliciano sighed plainly.

“Oh, really?” Gilbert replied as he felt the brunette finger at the waistband of his boxers. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Forgive me for doubting you,  _ liebling _ ,” Gilbert murmured as he turned around in the circle of Feli’s arms, wrapping his own around his waist. He smiled innocently at him, and Gilbert rolled his eyes, bowing forward until their lips met. 

Everything they did together seemed done through honey. Golden and slow and sweet, and kissing was no exception. His chest always felt a little tighter when they pulled away, his shoulders a little looser. Feliciano smiled at him, and reached up, pinching his nose. 

“I love you,” he murmured quietly. That was the first time he’d ever said it. Gilbert was quiet for a moment but could keep the stupid grin that bloomed onto his face contained. 

“I love you too,” he said, and Feliciano laughed. 

“I love you more!” 

“It’s not a competition!” Gilbert cried, and Feliciano laughed harder. 

He would never see Feliciano the same way again, and it was the best thing that would ever happen to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I hope you enjoyed this silly fic.Your comments and kudos have made posting this work an absolute joy. Thank you so much for reading!


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